


Heirs of Light and Darkness

by skywalkersamidala



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, BUT all sexytimes are consensual, Drama, Empress Padmé Amidala, F/M, Forced Marriage, Non-Graphic Violence, Politics, dark!padme and light!anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: After escaping the Jedi purge two years ago made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker has at last been captured by the Empire. He expects to be killed, but Lady Padmé Amidala, the imperial heir, has other ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on various versions of this story for a loooong time, and I'm so excited to finally start posting it! It'll be about 15 chapters, so decently long :D I've read many an arranged marriage fic with dark!Anakin/Vader and light!Padme and loved every one of them, but I've always been intrigued by the possibility of a role-reversal.....so, this fic! Just a few notes on the backstory:
> 
> 1\. To be honest, I don't have a 100% clear version of EXACTLY what happened before the fic started, but bits of backstory are scattered around here and there throughout the fic. If you have a question about backstory that doesn't eventually get answered, you can probably assume I just don't know the answer LMAO
> 
> 2\. Anakin was still found by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and Tatooine when he was nine and taken back to Coruscant for Jedi training, but they ended up there during some other mission not related to Naboo or Padme. Anakin and Padme have never met when this fic starts, though they've heard of/recognize each other.
> 
> 3\. Padme is NOT secretly Palpatine's daughter or whatever, he just selected her as his heir because he doesn't have any biological children and Padme's been a protege of his for a long time.
> 
> That's it for now I think...happy reading!

Anakin knew he should never have returned to Tatooine. Nothing good ever happened on the sandy hellhole of a planet. It was where he’d been a slave. It was where his mother had died. It was where he’d fled to after escaping the Jedi purge had made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy. And now it was where he was being chased by Stormtroopers.

As a Jedi, Anakin could run faster than the Stormtroopers, but there were more of them. _Many_ more; even his skills with a lightsaber wouldn’t be enough to defend himself against all of them. He didn’t know where he was running to, just _away._ He’d been hiding out in the wastelands for Force knew how long—at least a year, maybe two—and now he was sprinting across the barren terrain with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nothing but sand for miles and miles. Anakin just hoped to the Force that he’d soon come across another system of caves like the one he’d been living in.

He was getting tired, and they were getting closer. How was half an hour of running tiring him out so quickly? He used to have much better endurance. Then again, he’d been far less physically active during all his months of hiding, not to mention that the scorching double suns and sand tripping him up and getting in his eyes and lungs weren’t exactly favorable running conditions.

And then, the fatal mistake: Anakin slipped on the sand and fell flat on his face. He quickly scrambled to his feet again, but the precious few wasted seconds meant that he no longer had any hope of outrunning them. He ignited his lightsaber.

Anakin was immediately bombarded with blaster fire, and he used his Jedi reflexes to move his lightsaber impossibly fast, deflecting the bolts. But he’d never quite perfected doing it one-handed, and there was far too much blaster fire for him to evade all of it, and a shot got past his defenses and hit him in the leg. Anakin hissed and stumbled, then fell to his knees just as he heard one of the Stormtroopers shout, “Stop! She wants him alive!”

Anakin barely had enough time to wonder who “she” was before a blaster was aiming directly at his chest and firing. The world went black.

* * *

When he woke up, the first thing Anakin registered was the ground vibrating underneath him, and after a few moments he could hear the sound of an engine rumbling. He knew that sound. He was on a starship traveling through hyperspace. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t he dead?

He cracked his eyes open, blinking several times to clear his vision. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized he wasn’t alone.

He was lying on the floor of a round room with a white domed ceiling, and against the center of the back wall was a chair—almost a throne. There were two young women standing on either side of it, and a third sitting on it. Her clothes were surprisingly simple compared to the ridiculously elaborate getup she usually wore to public events: white formfitting shirt and pants, practical boots, a blaster on her belt, face free of makeup, and hair done in a bun at the nape of her neck. But even without all the ceremonial trappings, Anakin would recognize her anywhere.

Lady Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo and current heir to the Empire.

Anakin instinctively reached for his lightsaber, only to realize two things: one, his hand was bound in a stun cuff (which, in lieu of being attached to a cuff on the other hand, was chained to one around his ankle), and two, his lightsaber was no longer attached to his belt. He flailed around a little and tried to use the Force to free himself, but the connection he usually felt to the Force had gone dead and he realized it must be a Force-dampening cuff.

“Relax,” Amidala said. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Her voice was higher pitched than it sounded in the speeches Anakin had seen holorecordings of, high and lilting and almost… _sweet._ It was unsettling.

He tried to scoff or insult her or say something bold, but all he managed was, “Aren’t I dead?”

She laughed, and again, the sweetness of the sound caught him off guard. “Of course not. The blaster that hit you was set to stun. As I said, I don’t want to hurt you, and I certainly don’t want you dead.”

“Dead” or “hurt” were really the only two things Anakin could think of that the imperial heir would want one of the last Jedi to be, so he frowned at her in bewilderment. “Oh, really? Then why am I here?”

Amidala nodded at the other two women, whom Anakin assumed to be her handmaidens. “Leave us,” she said.

“My Lady,” one of them protested.

“I’ll only be a moment. He poses no threat,” Amidala replied, which offended Anakin, though admittedly he really _couldn’t_ do anything without his lightsaber and with a Force-dampening stun cuff binding his hand. Maybe he could do it the old-fashioned way and punch her in the face? Though he was sure that wouldn’t end well for him.

The handmaidens pursed their lips disapprovingly but nevertheless obeyed their mistress and left the room, leaving Anakin alone with Amidala. “I thought we could negotiate,” she said. “I’m offering you safety and a way out of the bounty on your head.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “And in exchange you want…?”

“In exchange for your safety, you are going to marry me,” she said calmly.

Anakin gaped at her, brain struggling to make sense of the words. “You’re joking,” he said after a minute.

“I assure you, I’m not.”

Indeed, her expression was perfectly serious, not even the hint of a smile on her features. “Okay,” Anakin said, deciding to play along with this absurd scenario for a little while. Maybe he was asleep back in his cave on Tatooine and this entire day was some bizarre dream. “Why in all the Sith hells would _you_ want to marry _me?_ We’re enemies, unless I missed something major in galactic politics while I was in hiding from all the lackeys _you_ sent to kill me.”

“The _Emperor_ sent them, not me,” Amidala said, utterly unfazed by the perfectly reasonable objections to a marriage between them.

“Same thing,” Anakin said.

“Not quite. As for why I want to marry you, perhaps the Empire wants to use your power for our benefit rather than wasting it by killing you. Perhaps I want my heirs to be as strong in the Force as you are. Perhaps it will crush the Rebel Alliance’s morale once and for all to see the Chosen One himself allied with the Empire.” Amidala smiled at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Or perhaps I merely find you handsome and that’s all there is to it.”

Anakin snorted; as if Lady Amidala would ever do anything without an ulterior motive. Though her allusion to _heirs_ made his stomach twist into knots. Heirs that _he_ would provide her with… “What makes you think I would agree to this?” he asked. “If the alternative is my death, that’s fine with me. I’d rather die than marry you.”

“My, you certainly know how to charm a woman,” Amidala said dryly. “You aren’t the only Jedi who survived, you know. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano are still at large, too.”

Anakin’s heart stopped. “What are you saying?” he said slowly. He hadn’t known whether his former master and Padawan had survived, though he’d held out hope that they had because surely he would have felt their deaths in the Force, would have felt his bonds with them snapping—unless their deaths had been lost among all the others on that terrible day. And since then he hadn’t risked trying to contact or locate them, deciding it would be safest to lie low for a long time before attempting any regrouping. Here at last was confirmation that they were still alive, though he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what came next.

“If you don’t agree to the deal I’m offering you, you will tell us where they are and you will watch them die,” Amidala said simply.

Anakin’s stomach filled with dread. “I don’t know where they are,” he said, truthfully.

She cocked her head and studied him. “I may not be able to tell whether or not you’re lying, but I’m sure the Emperor will be able to read your thoughts,” she said at last. “I doubt even the Chosen One would be a match for a powerful Sith Lord with decades of experience and who, unlike you Jedi, has no qualms about permanently damaging your mind in the search for information.”

“I don’t know where they are!” Anakin insisted, more desperately this time.

“And if that truly is the case, the Emperor will force you to contact them and determine their location.”

Anakin glared at her. “He’ll never be able to control me, not if he uses all the mind tricks he knows.”

Amidala sighed, looking almost bored. “You really are making me layer on the threats, aren’t you? If you refuse to marry me, you will tell us the whereabouts of Kenobi and Tano or contact them to discover their whereabouts if you don’t already know. And if you refuse to do _that,_ then we’ll have no choice but to pay a visit to the Lars moisture farm on Tatooine, the exact coordinates of which we _do_ already know.”

He went cold all over. “W-what?”

“You have family there, don’t you? Your stepbrother, Owen Lars, and his wife Beru. A sweet couple.”

Anakin should never have gone to the moisture farm when he’d first arrived on Tatooine after the Jedi purge—he’d _known_ it might put them in danger if the marriage of Owen’s late father to a woman named Skywalker hadn’t already done so—but he’d had no food, no water, nowhere else to go. He’d only stayed two days, long enough to gather supplies and come up with a scrap of a plan. Long enough to realize how willing Owen and Beru were to endanger their lives for someone they barely knew all in the name of family.

“You would threaten a pair of innocent farmers?” Anakin said, unable to keep his voice from shaking a little. “Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly sink any lower.”

“Believe me, I take no pleasure in threatening or killing the innocent,” Amidala said. “That was merely my last resort to get you to cooperate. I don’t want to hurt the Lars family, and I’m sure _you_ want that even less, so it would be better for everyone involved if you’d just agree to marry me and have done with it.”

Anakin stared at her, heart sinking. His hands were tied—literally and metaphorically. Amidala had managed to threaten every single one of the very few loved ones Anakin had left in the galaxy whom the Empire hadn’t already destroyed. Perhaps Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would be able to stay safe if he resisted Palpatine’s mind invasion, but the Lars family—if Anakin made a single wrong move at any time from here on out, if he tried to escape, if he even tried to _warn_ them that they were in danger, the Empire would kill them. They probably already had Stormtroopers hiding near the moisture farm unbeknownst to Owen and Beru, waiting for Amidala to give the signal.

He had no choice.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll… _marry you.”_ He didn’t bother masking his disgust as he said the words. He still could hardly even believe this was happening, though he no longer thought it was a dream. His subconscious wasn’t capable of coming up with such a nightmarish scenario.

Amidala smiled at him again. “Wonderful. We’ll begin preparations for the wedding ceremony as soon as we arrive back on Coruscant. I’ll be handling as much of the planning as I can, but I _am_ very busy so some of it will fall to you.”

Anakin scowled at her. “I really couldn’t care less about the ceremony.” This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening…

“Well, my handmaidens will be in charge of preparations, so I suppose you won’t _really_ have to do much if you don’t want to.”

“Good.” Anakin held up his cuffed hand and said sarcastically, “Am I allowed out of this now? Or is kidnapping your intended, taking him prisoner, threatening him into marriage, and keeping him bound in stun cuffs some Nabooian courtship ritual I’m unaware of?”

Amidala pursed her lips, but to Anakin’s surprise, she came over and removed the cuffs. “I hope I can trust you not to attack me or any of the other people on board this ship. And also not to do anything foolish once we arrive or at any point afterwards.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll play the part of obedient husband if the alternative is watching everyone I care for die.” Anakin’s tone was still laced with sarcasm—it was his only defense at this point—but inside, he felt sick. He was a slave again. Still. Watto had bought him from Gardulla the Hutt. Qui-Gon and the Jedi had won him from Watto. And now Amidala and the Empire had captured him again, and they were dangling his friends and family over his head to make him complacent, just as the Tatooinian slave masters had put a bomb inside him so he wouldn’t defy them.

He spent the rest of the trip wandering restlessly around the ship; he couldn’t decide if it was worse to stay in the back area alone with Amidala and her handmaidens or to be in the cockpit with the Stormtroopers who had been shooting at him some unknown number of hours earlier (Anakin realized he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious). Although there were fewer of them on the ship than had been chasing him on Tatooine. They must have brought enough Stormtroopers to merit multiple ships, which was flattering in a perverse sort of way. The Empire may have beaten Anakin, but at least they hadn’t underestimated his power. He might even have been able to escape yet again if not for the damned sand.

At one point he asked Amidala where his lightsaber was, to which she replied that she was “keeping it safe” but that he wouldn’t be getting it back anytime soon, she was sure he could understand. Anakin was tempted to ask if he’d _ever_ get it back, then decided he’d rather not know the answer.

It was a long trip, but when they dropped out of hyperspace and Coruscant’s glittering surface came into view, it felt like it hadn’t been nearly long enough. Anakin watched nauseously out the viewport as they entered the atmosphere, the bustling cityscape becoming larger and larger during the descent.

Once they landed, Amidala approached him once more. “I hope I don’t need to put these back on,” she said, holding up the stun cuffs.

Anakin glowered. “No.”

“Good. Try not to make a scene, please.”

Amidala passed the cuffs off to one of the handmaidens, then looked expectantly at Anakin. He gave her a blank look in return, so she sighed in exasperation and took his arm herself rather than waiting for him to offer it to her.

So they walked off the ship arm-in-arm, and Anakin still was half-convinced he was dreaming. A Jedi and the imperial princess. A fugitive from the Empire and the heir to the Empire. And now here they were, walking together, physically touching, soon to be married. What was going on? He almost wished she’d suddenly pull a blaster on him, at least if she was trying to kill him it would be less confusing than _this._

He tried to distract himself by gazing up at the imperial palace. Anakin had to admit it was the most impressive and beautiful building he’d ever seen. It was constructed out of a white metallic material that sparkled in the sunlight, and there were dozens of tall spires and balconies, hundreds of large windows. The red and black imperial banner hanging in front rather ruined the beauty of the architecture, though.

Anakin next turned to observe his surroundings. They’d landed on a landing platform just outside the palace, and it seemed to be a private area given that there was no one else in sight other than their contingent. Amidala had probably wanted to return as discreetly as possible so that she could publicly announce some lie about why Anakin was marrying her before anyone saw them together.

Could he make a run for it? He didn’t have a weapon, but he was a very fast runner, especially compared to the Stormtroopers who’d be slowed down by their clunky armor. Maybe he could make it back to the ship and escape? But then with a jolt Anakin remembered Owen and Beru. Even if he managed to escape successfully—which was unlikely, he was surrounded by a large number of Stormtroopers who’d be able to shoot him before he got to the ship—the Empire would kill the last remnants of his family. He just couldn’t risk it. Not now, not ever.

And so Anakin resigned himself to staring straight ahead and going where Amidala led him, grimly acknowledging that this was going to be the rest of his life.

Once they entered the palace they parted ways with the Stormtroopers, and Amidala and her handmaidens led Anakin down a twisty maze of corridors. He tried to keep track of where they were going but quickly became confused and gave up. They’d probably designed it that way on purpose, so no one could escape. Despite the beautiful exterior, the inside of the palace was decorated gloomily with mostly red and black. He almost made a snarky comment about it to Amidala, then decided he’d prefer to interact with her as little as possible.

At long last, they went through a grand set of doors and ended up in what could only be the throne room. The ceiling was impossibly high, with windows almost as tall. Red-robed imperial guards lined the walls, ready to kill anyone who tried to attack the Emperor. At the end of the long room was a raised dais with a throne on top. And on that throne was Emperor Palpatine.

Anakin’s hand instinctively clenched into a fist, and the warning look Amidala gave him told him she must’ve felt his entire body tensing up. As much as he hated her, he hated Palpatine a thousand times more. This was the man responsible for the destruction of the Republic, of the Jedi. Anakin had lost dozens, hundreds of friends and comrades because of him. And he was the one prolonging the war with the Rebellion instead of trying to negotiate peace because he refused to give in until the Empire had crushed every last Rebel under its heel, no matter how many innocent citizens and planets were destroyed in the violent conflict.

“Ah, my dear, I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely,” Palpatine said, his voice ringing through the huge silent room and sending chills down Anakin’s spine. “And with Skywalker too. Excellent work.”

They approached the foot of the dais and, rather than ascending the stairs to speak with Palpatine on the same level, Amidala knelt in front of them and tugged Anakin down with her. The handmaidens did the same behind them.

“Thank you, My Lord, though I’m afraid I can’t take the credit. The Stormtroopers were the ones who brought him in,” Amidala said. “I was merely along for the journey.”

“You’re too modest, Lady Amidala. After all, it was you who tracked Skywalker to Tatooine when not a single one of my military advisors was able to do it.”

Anakin looked over at her accusingly—so it was _her_ fault he’d been found—but her expression was still pleasantly neutral. “Once we successfully accessed the Jedi archives and discovered that Tatooine was his home planet, it wasn’t difficult to guess that he would go there after fleeing Coruscant,” she said. “Hiding in plain sight.”

“A job well done all around,” Palpatine said. “Please, rise.” They did so. “Now, if you will leave him to me to deal with—”

“Actually, My Lord,” Amidala cut him off. “I had an alternate plan for him in mind.”

Palpatine stared at her with a piercing gaze for a long moment. “An alternate plan,” he said at last, and his tone of voice made it feel like the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped several degrees. “You doubt my own plan? You feel that you know better than I do?”

“Certainly not, My Lord,” Amidala was quick to say. “I just thought that, perhaps, in your eagerness to eradicate all the Jedi, you did not stop to consider that Skywalker could potentially be a useful tool for us.”

“A tool,” Palpatine repeated.

“Yes, My Lord,” said Amidala. “After all, he is the Chosen One. It seems like a waste to kill him right now rather than using his power for our own advantage. But of course, you know better than I what Skywalker is or isn’t capable of, so if you feel that keeping him alive would be unwise, I will not question your judgment.”

Anakin was watching the exchange with marked interest. So the whole marriage thing hadn’t been Palpatine’s idea? He’d originally intended simply to kill Anakin once he arrived on Coruscant? But instead, Amidala had gone rogue and cooked up this plot behind his back. Perhaps she wasn’t a mindless extension of the Emperor the way Anakin had always imagined. Though on second thoughts, he wasn’t sure Palpatine’s heir having a mind and ambitions of her own was any better for him. Or for the galaxy.

Amidala launched into an explanation of the plan she’d outlined to Anakin during their trip, including all the threats she’d layered on to make him complacent. By the time she was done, Palpatine was smiling in a way Anakin didn’t like at all.

“Very clever, my dear. Once again you have proven I wasn’t wrong to choose you as a successor,” Palpatine said. “We will do as you say, with one more condition.”

“Name it, My Lord.”

“I would be remiss if I didn’t also take advantage of this opportunity, having the Chosen One himself living in our midst. I will train him as my apprentice and teach him the ways of the Dark Side.”

Anakin was so horrified that he forgot he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. “I’ll never turn to the Dark Side!” he burst out.

Palpatine gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. “You will,” he said calmly. “In time.”

Anakin was panicking again. Marrying Lady Amidala was one thing. But becoming the Emperor’s Sith apprentice? How could he betray the Jedi, the Light Side, himself like that? And Obi-Wan? _Obi-Wan_ had been his master, he wasn’t going to let anyone else fill that role, let alone _Palpatine._

But as Anakin glanced back and forth between Palpatine and Amidala and beheld their matching expressions of smugness and cold determination, he realized, yet again, that he didn’t have a choice.

So much for being the oh-so-powerful Chosen One. The last time he’d felt this powerless was as a slave back on Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure that in canon the imperial palace is the Jedi Temple, but in this fic I think the whole temple got destroyed and the imperial palace is a brand-new building. Hope you liked the first chapter!!


	2. Chapter 2

“Keep in mind, Lady Amidala,” Palpatine had said just before they left, “that if Skywalker ever does anything to betray us, the blame and punishment will fall solely on you.”

Anakin had winced a little at his tone of voice, but Amidala had merely stared calmly back at him. “Understood, My Lord.”

Now she was leading Anakin and the handmaidens out of the throne room and off to somewhere else in the palace, Force knew where. Once they were a good distance away, Anakin forgot his vow to never speak to her unless absolutely necessary and said, “You didn’t tell me becoming a Sith apprentice was part of the deal!”

Amidala shrugged. “As you saw, the Emperor only decided on that just now,” she replied. “I was just as unaware as you that it would be ‘part of the deal.’”

Anakin huffed crossly. “Why’d you have to go and ruin everything, anyway?” he said. “I would’ve been perfectly happy to just let him kill me—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Amidala snapped. “You think the Emperor would have been content to give you a quick, clean death? You are a Jedi, the Chosen One, no less. He would have drawn it out for weeks, months, torturing you to within an inch of your life and stopping just before death could take you, letting you recover your strength a little bit just so he could do it all over again. I’ve seen what he does to enemies of the Empire, and for you, I have no doubt he would have gone even beyond what he does to them.”

“Well, at least I wouldn’t have been forced to ally myself with the Empire,” Anakin muttered.

Amidala snorted. “What I’ve done for you is a blessing, and if you weren’t so obsessed with being a damned noble _hero,_ you would recognize how lucky you are to be alive.”

Anakin stewed in his annoyance for a few minutes until curiosity outweighed it and he said, “Where are we going now?”

“To my rooms. Well, our rooms now, I suppose. And you needn’t worry, they’re quite extensive,” she said, catching his frown. “You’ll have your own suite within it and will easily be able to avoid me.”

At least they wouldn’t have to share a bed, or even a bedroom. Except on the nights when Amidala wanted to work on conceiving an heir, Anakin realized, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Maybe if he was lucky she’d conceive on their wedding night and they’d never have to sleep together again after that. Surely one heir was all she needed, and she didn’t strike him as being particularly motherly, so he doubted she’d want any other children.

Anakin tried to put this out of his mind—no use worrying about the wedding night until it happened—and after quite a long walk, they ended up in Amidala’s apartments. When he walked in, Anakin was startled to see that the décor was completely different from the rest of the palace. Rather than evil and depressing reds and blacks, Amidala had chosen a color scheme of pale blues, whites, and pastel yellows for her personal rooms. Combined with the floor-to-ceiling windows, it gave the whole room an airy, elegant feel. And in an odd way, it was almost…cozy.

Anakin’s spirits lifted ever so slightly, though that wasn’t saying much. Sure, his life had suddenly become a waking nightmare, but at least the rooms he was going to be living in forever were welcoming and comfortable.

“This is the main sitting room,” Amidala said, drawing Anakin out of his thoughts. “This door here leads to the formal dining room, which I use for personal company—more official functions are held on the main floor of the palace rather than my personal rooms. And off that way is the smaller dining room where I eat when no one else is here.”

Three dining rooms for three different levels of formality. Great. “What about the kitchen?” Anakin asked.

“That’s off the small dining room, but you needn’t worry about it,” she said. “My handmaidens do all the cooking for us.”

As if on cue, several more handmaidens started entering the sitting room from various doors leading elsewhere in the apartment. Anakin was surprised by how many there were, almost a dozen. He supposed it was naïve to think that the two who had accompanied Amidala on the journey to Tatooine were the only two she had; she was the kriffing imperial heir, after all.

“These are my handmaidens,” she told him. “You’ve already met Sabé and Cordé—” The two who’d been with them thus far, though Anakin wasn’t sure which was which “—and this is Dormé, Eirtaé, Rabé, Yané, Saché, Moteé, Hollé, and Teckla.”

Anakin couldn’t even begin to follow that and resigned himself to never knowing which handmaiden was which. Plus, most of them looked very similar to each other and to Amidala, he’d never be able to tell them apart.

“And this,” she continued, now indicating Anakin and addressing the handmaidens, “is Anakin Skywalker, former Jedi Knight but now the Emperor’s new apprentice and my betrothed.”

 _What is happening to my life?_ Anakin screamed internally. “Hello,” he said awkwardly.

The handmaidens all greeted him and expressed their congratulations on their betrothal, which Amidala graciously accepted and Anakin refused to respond to. “Now, Anakin, since we’re to be married, my handmaidens will be serving you just as much as me,” Amidala said next. “If you ever need anything, you can go to them.”

Anakin was tempted to make a rude comment, but the handmaidens were all smiling at him and he realized it wasn’t _their_ fault they were employed by one of the most evil beings in the galaxy. “I will, thank you,” he said, giving them a slight smile in return.

Then the handmaidens returned to their tasks and Amidala continued giving Anakin a tour of the royal apartment. There were a couple more sitting rooms of varying sizes and degrees of formality, a veranda, several freshers, a study, and on opposite ends of the apartment, two suites. Both of them had a bedroom with its own balcony, a fresher, and a sitting room that was smaller and more intimate than the ones in the main part of the apartment.

Amidala’s suite was the bigger and more luxurious of the two, but even so Anakin’s was so large he could hardly believe it was for him alone. The bed could easily fit four people and the closet could probably hold the clothes of every slave in Mos Espa. Anakin was sorely tempted to kick his boots off and sink his bare feet into the fluffy carpet, though he refrained out of a sense of decorum and an unwillingness to let Amidala think he was enjoying this even a little bit.

The fresher alone was bigger than his and his mother’s entire hovel on Tatooine when they were slaves, and like the bed, the bathtub could fit three or four people. Anakin doubted he’d use the sitting room much—not like he had any friends around to entertain—but when he stepped out onto the balcony attached to his bedroom, he almost, almost smiled. It was overlooking a small, deserted garden which was bursting with life and color. It reminded him of some of the planets he’d visited with Obi-Wan when he was still a Padawan, though the only two he’d ever lived on were Tatooine and Coruscant, neither of which had much in the way of natural greenery.

“Those are your private gardens,” Amidala said. “The entrance is on the floor below us, and there are guards stationed outside it who won’t let anyone else in there without your permission.”

So Anakin had one place where he could be completely alone. That was something. Though he doubted anything would stop Amidala or Palpatine from coming in if they wanted to.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” she said. “There are some clean clothes in the closet, hopefully they’ll fit well enough. I’ll have a tailor in as soon as I can to get your measurements for a new set of clothes.”

“I’m fine with these ones,” Anakin protested, indicated what he was already wearing.

Amidala raised her eyebrows. “Those are filthy.”

Indeed, he’d been in hiding for two years with only his Jedi robes and a couple other shirts and pairs of pants Owen and Beru had given him, and his Jedi robes were covered in grime and sand. There had been a small lake in the depths of his cave where he’d washed his clothes, but the soap Owen and Beru had given him for his skin hadn’t been very effective on fabric. Not to mention he’d been running in these ones while the Stormtroopers chased him and had gotten them all sweaty and sandy.

Still, Anakin was suddenly thankful he’d happened to be wearing his Jedi robes that day instead of one of his other outfits because now he still had them with him. “You’ll throw these clothes out if I give them to you,” he said accusingly.

“Of course I will,” Amidala replied. “Like I said, they’re filthy.”

“Then I’m not changing out of them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No. I won’t let you get rid of these.”

A hint of desperation crept into Anakin’s voice despite himself, and to his surprise Amidala’s expression seemed to soften somewhat. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll have them washed—a dozen times—and given back to you.”

“Promise?” Anakin asked.

“I promise.”

At last he nodded and went over to the closet as Amidala left the room. Wrinkling his nose at the selection of clothes—it was all black, gray, and red—Anakin grabbed something that looked at least somewhat comfortable and headed into the fresher.

He spent a long, long time in the bath. It felt wonderful to finally scrub every bit of Tatooine grime off his skin and out of his hair. There was an excessively large assortment of soaps and shampoos, and Anakin entertained himself by smelling all of them and testing out the ones that smelled the nicest.

At last he got out smelling like a dozen different flowery and citrusy scents and wrapped himself in a warm, fluffy towel. He dillydallied for as long as he possibly could, not wanting to leave the safety of the fresher, but eventually he was dry and dressed and headed back out into his bedroom. He left his dirty Jedi robes on the floor and went out to the balcony.

Having literally nothing else to do, Anakin decided to meditate. He closed his eyes and let the setting sun and the Force wash over him. _Why is this happening to me? What can I do? Is there a way out? What is my path?_ The Force didn’t answer. Nevertheless, Anakin did feel himself relaxing a little bit. He’d always hated meditating as a Padawan, but he’d gotten rather good at it during his time on Tatooine since he didn’t have much else to do and had to stay hidden alone in his cave most of the time. Now, finally, he was able to successfully clear his mind and focus on the Force for a good, long meditation session. Obi-Wan would’ve been so proud, he thought with a stab of wistfulness.

Someone clearing their throat behind him pulled him out of his meditative state, and Anakin opened his eyes and turned around to see a handmaiden standing there.

“If you’re done with your bath, My Lord, Lady Amidala wishes to speak to you,” she said.

“Fine,” Anakin said, and he followed her back out to the main part of the apartment.

Amidala was waiting for him with another pair of handmaidens. “Follow me,” she told him, and she turned to lead the way out.

“Where are we going now?” Anakin said, annoyed, as he hurried to follow her.

“The medbay,” Amidala replied. “You need to be examined.”

“Why?”

“Well, because you look dead on your feet.”

“Whose fault is that? I was hiding in a cave for two years, thanks to you.”

“I also thought,” Amidala continued, pretending not to have heard him, “that you could be fitted for a cybernetic hand while we’re there.”

Anakin stared at her, startled. “A cybernetic hand?”

“Yes, if you want.”

Anakin considered the matter. He certainly didn’t want to accept any favors from the Empire, but on the other hand, he _did_ miss his right hand terribly, and it would improve his life considerably to have a cybernetic replacement. After a minute, the second train of thought won out—his life was going to be so horrible from now on, he might as well take advantage of any little opportunities he had to make it better.

Amidala dropped him off at the medbay with instructions for the third handmaiden to bring him back to their rooms once he was done, and then she departed with the other two. The med droids began a thorough examination of Anakin, and when they’d finished they informed him that he would be just fine once he had a few solid meals.

They injected him with some nutrient serums, and then they moved on to his arm. Rather fussily, the droid who seemed to be in charge told him it was a miracle the remainder of his arm hadn’t gotten infected, to which Anakin snippily replied that the blazing-hot lightsaber which cut his arm off had instantly cauterized the wound. Still, he was relieved that all was well—he’d received only rudimentary medical care from Owen and Beru on Tatooine, and hadn’t even let them go to Mos Eisley for a proper doctor because he was afraid of being recognized.

As the droids started fitting him for a cybernetic hand, Anakin was taken back with unpleasant clarity to the day of the Jedi purge. Running through the Jedi Temple and deflecting blaster bolts from Stormtroopers, seeing all his fellow Jedi dead or dying and knowing there was nothing he could do to help them. Bursting into the Council Chamber to find all the younglings who’d taken shelter there dead, Count Dooku standing in the middle of the room with his red lightsaber ablaze. Tears streaming down his face as he battled Dooku with everything he had, the blinding pain and smell of seared flesh as Dooku cut off his arm.

Being sure he was about to die, only for a blue lightsaber to drive through Dooku from behind, seeing Obi-Wan standing there as Dooku crumpled to the ground. The two of them sprinting towards the Temple hangar together, getting separated in the chaos, Anakin throwing himself into the closest intact starfighter he could find and flying away from it all as fast as he could, jumping to lightspeed the second it was safe to do so. Hating himself for abandoning all the others, but knowing that if he’d stayed any longer he only would’ve been killed, that he owed it to all the fallen Jedi to stay alive so that the Jedi Order wouldn’t all die out that day.

It was a miracle he’d managed to fly himself all the way to Tatooine in such agonizing physical and emotional pain, with only one hand and no copilot to help him. Anakin was pretty sure he’d just collapsed as soon as he’d made it inside Owen and Beru’s home. He remembered that they’d cared for him as best they could, and once he’d come to he’d explained everything to them. They’d told him he was welcome to stay with them no matter what danger it put them in, but Anakin had forced himself to leave the comfort of their home for the desert wasteland as soon as he’d recovered enough strength to do so.

And now here he was, suddenly living in more comfort and luxury than he’d ever experienced before. More comfort and luxury than he knew what to do with.

“There you are, My Lord,” one of the droids said, startling Anakin out of his thoughts.

He lifted his arm and observed the new golden cybernetic hand with interest. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, and the closest thing he’d had to a smile in two years spread across his face as he watched the new hand obey his brain’s command. The droids made him do a few exercises to make sure the hand was in working order, and then they sent him on his way with instructions to come back if he experienced any problems with it.

The handmaiden led Anakin back to the royal apartments and he shut himself up in his bedroom. He entertained himself by testing out his new hand, picking up every object in the room and putting it down. He was itching to try holding his lightsaber with it, but he had no idea what Amidala had done with it.

Just as Anakin was starting to get bored again, the handmaiden who’d accompanied him to the medbay returned. “I brought you a holopad and some holobooks, My Lord,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what else you might want for entertainment…”

“That sounds perfect, thank you,” Anakin said.

She bobbed her head. “Very good, My Lord. Let me or one of the others know if you think of anything else you’d like.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She turned to go, but Anakin found himself saying, “Wait, sorry, what’s your name again? Ami—uh, _Lady_ Amidala went through everyone’s names pretty fast, I didn’t really catch most of them.”

The handmaiden smiled kindly at him. “I’m Rabé, My Lord.”

“Rabé,” he repeated. “It’s nice to meet you, Rabé.”

“You too, My Lord.”

“You can just call me Anakin,” he said, embarrassed by the formality of the address.

Rabé shook her head. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be appropriate, My Lord.”

“But—”

“Is there anything else you require?”

Anakin hesitated, then said, “No, thank you.”

She inclined her head once more and departed, leaving him alone again. Anakin browsed through everything she’d brought him. There were about a dozen holobooks in different genres—Rabé had probably been aiming for a good variety—but he picked up the holopad and started checking all the galactic news outlets with some trepidation. Would the galaxy have heard of his capture by now? Between his bath and his trip to the medbay, it _had_ been several hours since his arrival and Amidala would likely have had time to come up with some sort of press release.

He checked the HoloNet News first, and his heart jolted when he saw his name in the first headline: _Lady Amidala to Marry Ex-Jedi Skywalker._ Anakin clicked on the full article and began to read.

_In a shocking announcement, the imperial palace revealed this evening that not only has Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker been found, but he’s also on Coruscant at this very moment—and set to marry Lady Padmé Amidala herself._

_The palace released the following statement:_

_“Lady Amidala is pleased to announce her recent betrothal to Anakin Skywalker, a former Jedi Knight who is now allied with the Empire. Skywalker has been on Tatooine after fleeing the Jedi purge two years ago, but he recently came to Coruscant to turn himself in, expressing a change of heart and a desire to support the Empire. The Emperor questioned him and determined that his sentiments were sincere, and the marriage was agreed upon to strengthen the new alliance. The wedding ceremony will take place in the palace in two weeks’ time. Lady Amidala and Skywalker are both very excited and are sure they will spend many happy years together.”_

_The renowned Chosen One himself, Skywalker will no doubt make a powerful ally for the Empire. We can all rest easy knowing there is one less Jedi out there plotting to overthrow the Emperor. Congratulations to Lady Amidala and Anakin Skywalker on their betrothal, and be sure to check back in two weeks for imperial wedding coverage!_

Anakin stared at the article, ears buzzing. He frantically browsed other news sites—the HoloNet News was owned by the Empire, maybe other news outlets would have different takes on it? But while the anti-Empire outlets did express some skepticism as to the truthfulness of the imperial palace’s statement, the statement was still _there_ in every single article, saying that Anakin was an Empire supporter and had _wanted_ to marry Amidala.

He stormed out of his bedroom, looking for her. By the time he located her in her private sitting room, he’d been wandering around for so long that he didn’t manage the dramatic entrance he’d intended, but as she looked up Anakin stomped over to her and shoved the holopad in her face. “What the kriff is this?” he demanded.

Amidala skimmed the article. “It seems to be an announcement of our betrothal,” she said calmly.

“But you—you _lied!”_ Anakin said, outraged. “You told them I wanted this! You told them I’m allied with the Empire!”

“Anakin, be reasonable,” she said, still infuriatingly calm. “The entire purpose of this marriage is to convince the galaxy that you’re on our side in order to reassure the Empire’s citizens, who are very frightened due to the current civil war. I couldn’t exactly have them release a statement saying I’d captured you and blackmailed you into marrying me, could I?”

Anakin opened and closed his mouth several times, too angry to speak and also not really having a counterargument. “Still! You should’ve at least asked me first!” he settled on at last.

“I apologize,” said Amidala. “In the future, I will run by you all publicity statements concerning you before the palace releases them, though I can’t promise they’ll be changed if you disapprove.”

He glared at her. “Fine,” he said, knowing that was as good of a deal as he was going to get. He turned on his heel and stalked back out of the room and slammed his bedroom door when he arrived, which was childish (and ineffective since Amidala was too far on the other side of the apartments to hear it) but immensely satisfying.

Anakin started reading a holobook to take his mind off things, but he set it aside after a chapter or two and picked up a different one instead. By the time he’d read the first chapter of all dozen holobooks, he decided maybe he’d better just go to bed. He went over to the closet and changed into what seemed to be a pair of sleeping pants, though the fancy silver embroidery on the black fabric was quite unnecessary, then turned off the lights climbed into bed (after locking the door for good measure).

The bed was the most ridiculously comfortable thing he’d ever experienced and a far cry from the cave floor he’d been sleeping on for the past two years, but Anakin was in too foul a mood to appreciate it. Shivering a little in the climate-controlled room, he pulled the blankets up to his chin and tried to go to sleep. Maybe when he woke up, this would all turn out to be a dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Unfortunately, Anakin awoke the next morning still in a suite in the imperial palace and was forced to acknowledge that this wasn’t a dream. He stayed in bed for a long time, but eventually made himself get up and get dressed.

He walked out the door and jumped when he saw that there were two handmaidens stationed immediately outside, waiting to accost him. “Good morning, My Lord,” Rabé said.

“Good morning,” Anakin replied. “You’re Rabé, right?”

She smiled. “Yes, My Lord.”

“Okay, great,” he said, feeling proud of himself. He turned to the other one. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Eirtaé, My Lord.”

Rabé and Eirtaé. Two down, eight to go. “All of us are available to assist you at any time, but Lady Amidala has assigned the two of us to you specifically,” Rabé told him. “We’ll be with you most of the time, except when you want privacy, of course.”

“Oh, um, that’s really not necessary,” Anakin said. “I’m used to doing things myself, I don’t need people to help me, like, get dressed and stuff.”

He’d meant that more as a dig at Amidala’s lavish lifestyle than the handmaidens’ careers, and to his relief they both chuckled and didn’t seem to take offense. “Of course, My Lord, and we’ll keep out of your way if you’d like, but Lady Amidala has assigned us to attend you just in case you ever need anything,” Eirtaé said.

“And,” Rabé added, “most people don’t know this, but we’re actually Lady Amidala’s bodyguards in addition to her handmaidens. So now we’re your bodyguards too, which is why we’ll be accompanying you whenever you leave your apartments. To protect you.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, surprised; he’d assumed Amidala would have the same imperial guards that Palpatine had. “Okay, then. I guess that makes sense.” Though he wondered how much of it was “protecting him” as opposed to “keeping an eye on him” or “preventing him from escaping.”

“Do you need anything now or would you prefer us to leave you?” Eirtaé asked.

“Um…could you show me where I can find some breakfast?” Anakin said a little sheepishly.

They both smiled and beckoned him to follow. As they walked, Anakin realized that they were probably the two easiest handmaidens to recognize—while all the others looked eerily like Amidala, Rabé’s complexion was darker and Eirtaé’s hair was lighter. Perhaps Amidala had assigned them to him on purpose, knowing he’d have the easiest time telling them apart from all the others.

They soon arrived in the small dining room, which was deserted. “What would you like for breakfast, My Lord?” Eirtaé asked.

Anakin shrugged. “Whatever you have.”

“We can make anything you’d like.”

“Um…” Anakin racked his brains. At the Jedi Temple all they had for breakfast was plain porridge, and he’d always hated it. Then his eyes lit up as he remembered a meal he’d once had when Obi-Wan had taken him to Dex’s Diner. “Can you make panna cakes?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” said Rabé.

“And…you wouldn’t happen to have carbosyrup, would you?”

“We do,” Eirtaé confirmed, smiling. “Panna cakes with carbosyrup is Lady Amidala’s favorite too. She’s always had a sweet tooth.”

Surprising. She seemed like the sort of person who’d actually enjoy porridge. Anakin waited patiently at the table while the handmaidens cooked, and he couldn’t help but smile when they brought out a large stack of fluffy panna cakes drizzled with a generous dose of sugary syrup. He hadn’t quite realized exactly how hungry he was until that very instant—the nutrient supplement he’d gotten from the medbay wasn’t the same as a proper meal—and he wolfed down the whole stack as well as the fruit they’d brought him, thanking them profusely every other mouthful.

“Where is Lady Amidala?” Anakin said once he’d finished eating, only just now realizing that there had been no sign of her on their way over to breakfast.

“She left for the Senate several hours ago,” Rabé told him. “It’s rare you’ll see her in the mornings unless you’re a very early riser.”

As a slave, then a Jedi, then a fugitive, Anakin had never before had the luxury of sleeping late, and he decided he might as well take advantage of it now that he did have it. Also, the less he had to see of Amidala, the better.

She was in meetings most of the day and Anakin didn’t see her again until dinner, which he was forced to have with her. “How was your day?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Fine,” Anakin said shortly. In all honesty, aside from the fact that he was a captive of the Empire, he’d had a pretty good day; he’d spent the whole thing lounging around the empty apartment and watching holodramas. He was a couple seasons behind on all his favorite ones, having been unable to watch them while he was on the run, and Rabé and Eirtaé had kindly refrained from spoiling any of the twists for him as he’d been catching up. At one point he’d apologized for being such a boring person to attend, and they’d laughed and said that between the three of them, watching holodrama reruns was much more fun than sitting through Senate meetings.

“How are you getting along with Rabé and Eirtaé?” Amidala said next.

“Good,” he said, truthfully. They were just about the only people in the palace that he liked, or could even stand. Maybe the other handmaidens too, but Anakin hadn’t spent much time with the rest of them yet.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Amidala replied. “I’m in meetings all day tomorrow too, but I was going to have the handmaidens work on wedding preparations, if you’d like to help them.”

Anakin shrugged. That was really the last thing he wanted to do, but he didn’t have much else to do so perhaps he’d consider it out of sheer boredom.

Seeming satisfied with his noncommittal response, she continued, “I also thought we should discuss honeymoon plans.”

Anakin had just taken a sip of water and promptly choked on it. “Honeymoon?” he stuttered, coughing. “I figured it would be back to business as usual the next morning. Aren’t you busy?”

“Well, yes, and personally I’d have no problem with that, but the public would be quite shocked if we went back to business as usual the morning after our wedding,” Amidala pointed out. “We want them to believe we at least _like_ each other, so…”

He’d have to do a lot of acting, then, Anakin thought, scrunching up his face in distaste. “Fine,” he said. “How long does it have to be for?”

“Just a week, I’m sure that’s long enough to convince the public we don’t hate spending time with each other. And I’d prefer to be away from the Senate for as little time as possible,” she said. “As for the destination, I was thinking Naboo.”

“Naboo?”

“Yes. It’s my home planet and I haven’t been back in a long time, so I thought we could stop in to visit my sister’s family for a day or two and then spend the rest of the week at a private retreat in the Lake Country.”

Amidala looked expectantly at him, and it wasn’t like Anakin had any better suggestions for honeymoon destinations or that she would listen to him if he did, so he agreed. Plus, he _had_ always wanted to go to Naboo—during his free time he’d loved going into the Jedi Temple library and researching all the different planets, and Naboo was just about the top of his list of planets he wanted to visit someday. So, maybe the honeymoon wouldn’t be so bad. Or at least, as un-bad as a honeymoon with Lady Amidala could be, which was probably still pretty bad.

The next day, Anakin felt guilty for lying on the couch watching holovision while the handmaidens were hard at work planning _his_ wedding, so he went over to join them. “What have you got so far?” he asked.

“It’s going to be held in the throne room,” one of them said.

Anakin made a face. “Is that negotiable?”

“I’m afraid not,” the same handmaiden said apologetically. “The Emperor specifically requested it.”

“He also gave us a guest list,” another one piped up, handing him a holopad.

Anakin skimmed it; he recognized the names of several high-ranking politicians, but the rest were unknown to him. “Is there anything I _am_ allowed to have an opinion about?”

“Well, the Emperor might be willing to add a few names to the guest list if you have anyone else you’re thinking of inviting,” Eirtaé said uncertainly.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were on the run, Anakin wasn’t about to invite Owen and Beru even closer to the danger of the Empire, and everyone else he’d ever cared about was dead. “No, that list is fine,” he said. “What else do we need to figure out?”

They proceeded to rattle off an extensive list including but not limited to attire, flowers, music, food, and seating arrangements, and by the time they were done Anakin sorely regretted asking. “Okay,” he said. “Um, I’d love to help, but I think you all might be more qualified…”

The handmaidens laughed. “Don’t worry about it, My Lord, we have everything under control,” Rabé assured him. “You just go back to catching up on _Zeltrons in Love._ I can’t wait to see what you think of the finale cliffhanger.”

Grinning, Anakin returned to the sitting room and parked himself in front of the holovision for several more hours.

The next day, the tailor arrived to measure Anakin for his wedding clothes and also anything else he wanted, though the pre-provided clothes in the closet fit him well enough. Nevertheless, at the insistence of Rabé and Eirtaé (who had orders from Amidala), he was persuaded to order a large amount of imperial finery.

“My Lord, you’re about to be married to the future empress,” Rabé pointed out when he protested. “You’ll have to dress the part.”

 _I’m trying not to think about that,_ Anakin thought, but out loud he only conceded her point.

The clothes were delivered remarkably quickly, only a few days after the fitting. _“This_ is what I have to wear to the wedding?” Anakin said in dismay when he opened the parcel containing that outfit. Apparently, he was supposed to wear a scarlet undershirt, a black tunic embroidered with silver, and black pants, boots, and cape. He might as well just put on a nametag saying _Hi! I’m evil!_

“Oh, it’ll look wonderful with Lady Amidala’s dress,” Eirtaé promised him, as if he cared about _that._

“What’s she wearing?”

“We’re not going to spoil the surprise,” Rabé said sternly. “It’s bad luck.”

Anakin, frankly, didn’t think his luck could get any worse, but he just shook his head and went along with it.

The rest of his clothes turned out to be made in the same vein as his wedding clothes, just not quite as fancy (though still so excessively fancy that he knew he was going to feel like a massive idiot in all of them). Anakin was just wishing he had his Jedi robes back when that evening, there was a knock on his bedroom door and Eirtaé came in carrying them. “I believe these are yours, My Lord?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, jumping off the bed and hurrying over to take them from her. They were still pretty ratty, but they were clean now and seemed to have been mended in several places. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry they’re not in very good shape, we did our best with them,” she said. “We wanted to just throw them out, they’re a mess and you have lots of better clothes now, but Lady Amidala insisted that we do everything we could to mend them.”

“She insisted?” Anakin repeated, surprised. She _had_ promised to return them to him, but he didn’t see why she wouldn’t have gone along with the handmaidens’ professional opinion and allowed them to throw his robes out. It wasn’t like he could’ve done anything about it other than sulk even more than he already had been.

“Yes, My Lord,” Eirtaé said. “She was very adamant. Wouldn’t hear of them being thrown out.”

“Oh,” said Anakin. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. “Well, thank you for doing all this. I appreciate it.”

Eirtaé smiled and departed after checking that he didn’t need anything else, and Anakin changed into his Jedi robes as soon as she was gone. He glanced in the mirror, pleased. At last he felt a little more like himself again.

Dinner was an hour later, and once again it was just him and Amidala. He hadn’t been forced to go to any formal functions yet (or even to leave their rooms at all), thank the Force, but a dinner with only her was equally trying. A couple nights she’d been too tied up in meetings to make dinner and he’d eaten in blissful solitude.

“I see you got your robes back,” Amidala said once they’d both sat down.

Anakin nodded. “Um…thank you,” he said after a moment. “For giving them back to me.”

She shrugged modestly. “I know they’re important to you. And…I want you to be happy here. I know you don’t believe me,” she said, seeing his incredulous look, “but it’s true. Though this marriage is purely for political reasons, it still wouldn’t do me any favors to have a husband who’s constantly miserable. I know it’s a lot to ask for you to be _happy,_ but I hope you’ll at least grow to feel comfortable and at home here.”

Normally Anakin would have greeted these words with a snort or a sarcastic comment—how dare she ask him to be happy when she’d kidnapped him?!—but she just seemed so sincere. And almost… _kind._ Almost as if she genuinely cared about his wellbeing. He knew that was an absurd thought, but still, it gave him enough pause that he remained silent.

“Anyway,” Amidala said, now back to a businesslike tone, “you shouldn’t ever wear those outside the privacy of our rooms. I doubt the Emperor would be pleased if he saw you walking around in Jedi robes.”

“Understood,” Anakin said. Part of him wanted to blatantly walk around in Jedi robes just to be defiant, but now that he was trapped in the imperial palace forever with no way out, there wasn’t really a point in making his life more difficult than it already was. He was sure any other Jedi in his place would rebel against Palpatine and damn the consequences, but thanks to his slave background, Anakin had never been like them. If it came to a choice between survival and staying loyal to his ideals, he was going to choose survival. Ideals didn’t do you much good when you’d been whipped so many times you could hardly stand up.

Besides, he realized as he lay in bed later that night, perhaps if he behaved well, he could get Amidala and Palpatine to trust him. And if they trusted him, maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to find out enough information to be able to overthrow them. Maybe he could even find some way to contact the Rebellion and leak imperial secrets to them. Anakin’s spirits rose at the thought. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to dupe Palpatine, but at least Amidala…she wasn’t even Force sensitive, he thought dismissively. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult to play her, fool her into thinking he was gradually having a change of heart and becoming genuinely loyal to the Empire.

But the thought of the Lars family stopped his plans in their tracks. If he betrayed Empire secrets to the Rebellion and the Empire found out, Anakin knew they’d kill Owen and Beru as revenge for his treachery. They’d probably kill him too, but he didn’t really care about that. Still, if he did decide to do this, he’d have to tread very, _very_ carefully. Otherwise their blood would be on his hands.

Anakin might not be able to get close enough to Amidala and Palpatine to find out anything of significance, anyway. But he might as well try, he decided, and if he found out anything good, he could then consider whether or not it would be too risky to contact the Rebellion. _Do or do not, there is no try._ Out of habit, Yoda’s voice echoed in his head. But he was wrong. It was far better to try and fail than to never try at all. Perhaps if the Jedi had understood _that,_ they’d still be around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how it's taken me until now to realize that Anakin/handmaidens friendship is everything


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update, but I'm away for the next few days so I won't be able to post another chapter until next week, and I wanted to get this one out in the meantime. Enjoy!

Two weeks passed in much the same manner—Anakin didn’t set foot outside the royal apartment, and Amidala was always gone when he woke up and, aside from the occasional dinner together, usually came back after he’d fallen asleep (or was pretending to be asleep so as to avoid her). She informed him that he wasn’t to start his Sith training with Palpatine until after they returned from their honeymoon, to his relief. Maybe in the meantime he’d be able to think of some way to get out of it, or at least to buy himself more time.

The day before the wedding, Anakin was once again left to his own devices and was reading a holonovel in his room, his attention only half on it, when Eirtaé came in to make the bed. “Oh, I’m sorry, My Lord, I didn’t realize you were in here,” she said.

“That’s okay. No, stay,” he said, seeing that she was making for the door. “I was just about to go sit on the balcony anyway.”

Anakin hopped off the bed and went to sit on the balcony with his holonovel instead. “So, have you gotten your gift for Lady Amidala yet?” Eirtaé asked from inside while making up the bed.

His heart stopped. “Gift?” he repeated uncertainly.

“Yes, for your wedding.”

Anakin was silent for so long that eventually Eirtaé poked her head out onto the balcony. Her eyes widened when she saw his bewildered look. “Oh. You didn’t know?” she said.

He shook his head. “Is—is she getting _me_ a gift?”

“Why, yes, she already has it all prepared,” Eirtaé said. “It’s a tradition on Naboo that newlyweds exchange gifts the morning after the wedding. I-I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that she intended to honor it…”

Anakin was racking his brains. What sort of gift could he possibly get Amidala? First of all, he hated her, second of all, she probably already had everything she could ever want and then some. “Do you have suggestions?” he asked anxiously. He wasn’t so much worried about hurting her feelings by not getting her a gift, but if other people found out that she’d gotten him one and he’d neglected to do the same for her, it would cause a whole scandal and he’d get in trouble at least from Amidala if not also from Palpatine, and that was something he’d really rather avoid.

“Well…she loves jewelry,” Eirtaé offered.

“Is there any kind of jewelry she wants that she doesn’t already have?”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t know, My Lord.” Seeming to sense Anakin’s growing distress, she quickly assured him, “I’m sure she’ll be happy with anything you get her as long as it comes from the heart.”

Jewelry…something that came from the heart…

_Happy birthday, Mom. I’m sorry it’s not much._

_Oh, Ani, it’s beautiful. The gifts we make ourselves mean so much more than the ones we purchase from someone else._

_Why? I wanted to have enough money to get you something nicer._

_Because I know you used something more valuable than money to make me this. Time and effort._

Suddenly Anakin had an idea. “Can you get me some japor wood and a carving knife as quickly as possible?” he said.

Eirtaé looked surprised but promised to do so, and Anakin had his gift by the end of the day. It wasn’t much, but it would do. He hoped.

Anakin woke on the morning of his wedding feeling nauseous. He briefly entertained the thought of faking sick and making them postpone it, but he knew that would never happen. The guests had been arriving over the past several days, most of them staying in empty rooms throughout the palace, and he was sure all the galactic news outlets were already on Coruscant and had started their coverage of the event. No, this wedding was happening today whether he liked it or not.

There was a knock on his door and Rabé and Eirtaé entered when he gave his permission. “Good morning, My Lord,” Rabé said, smiling. “Are you excited?”

Not for the first time, Anakin wondered if the handmaidens were also faking it to keep up appearances or if they genuinely believed he was happy about all this. For his part, he hadn’t been doing much to hide his resentment thus far, though Amidala had thoroughly warned him against seeming anything but the happy husband in public. She hadn’t explicitly said that Owen and Beru would be harmed if he didn’t, but she hadn’t needed to.

“Sure,” he said a little sarcastically. “How much time before we leave?”

“Three hours, My Lord,” said Eirtaé. “Lady Amidala started getting ready two hours ago, but we figured you wouldn’t need as much time and decided to let you sleep in a little.”

Even so, three hours was absurd; all Anakin needed to do was shower and change into his pre-prepared outfit. He insisted he didn’t need any help getting ready and dismissed them, but they returned once he was showered and dressed and proceeded to fuss over him quite unnecessarily, smoothing out his clothes and making sure everything was buttoned properly and combing his hair and putting some makeup on his face. Anakin had never worn makeup before and found it very uncomfortable—what if he had to wipe his eyes and smudged it everywhere?—but the handmaidens insisted that he’d look pale and sickly on camera without it. Oh, that’s right, his wedding was being broadcasted for the entire galaxy to see. Great.

At last they deemed him ready, and Anakin looked in the mirror and hated what he saw. He looked like a kriffing imperial poster boy. That was probably the point.

The handmaidens brought him to wait in an antechamber while the guests were filing into the throne room. Anakin had been waiting about ten minutes when Amidala arrived. He glanced up as she entered, and his breath caught slightly despite himself. She was wearing the most ridiculously elaborate gown he’d ever seen, mostly white with splashes of red, paired with an even more elaborate hairstyle and headdress, but he had to admit that she looked beautiful.

And oddly apprehensive. What did _she_ have to be apprehensive about? Maybe she was afraid Anakin was going to kill her in her sleep that night; he’d thought about it but had ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the risk. At least not yet.

Amidala came to stand beside him, giving him an awkward nod as she did so. “Anakin.”

Anakin nodded back, just as awkwardly. “My Lady.”

“We’re about to be married, just Padmé will do,” she said.

“Oh.” He’d almost forgotten she had a first name.

They stood in tense silence for a while until Amidala said, almost timidly, “You look nice.”

Anakin glanced down at himself. “I don’t know. Black’s not really my color. Bit evil-looking for my tastes.”

Amidala let out a tiny amused huff, a genuine one, and to his confusion Anakin felt…pleased. Why? He’d been forced into this marriage, so why did he care whether or not he was able to make his soon-to-be-wife laugh?

And then they heard music start up outside. That was their cue. Trying not to show how ill he felt, Anakin offered his arm to Amidala, who took it, her own face carefully expressionless as well. They slowly proceeded down the length of the throne room together, the music sounding to Anakin more like a death march than a wedding march. Amidala suddenly dug her nails into his arm, and Anakin frowned and turned to look at her, then realized she’d plastered on a wide smile and he quickly did the same so that they’d look every bit the happy couple for the guests and the cameras which were recording every second.

At last they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne. The officiant was waiting at the bottom for them, though Palpatine was sitting in his customary spot on the throne, reminding everyone exactly who was in charge here.

Anakin hardly heard anything that was said, so sickeningly loud was the pounding of his heart. He managed to speak when appropriate, and presumably Amidala did as well, for eventually they were being pronounced husband and wife. Anakin gazed down at her then; her mouth was still smiling and her eyes were utterly emotionless. At that moment, it hit him.

He was no longer Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. He was Anakin Amidala, Sith apprentice and husband to the future empress.

Anakin leaned down to kiss her, sealing his fate.

* * *

The celebration after the ceremony lasted the rest of the afternoon and evening. Anakin spent most of the time fighting to keep up the pretense of happiness and trying to ignore Amidala sitting stiffly beside him, Palpatine breathing down both their necks, the incessant congratulations from increasingly intoxicated guests, and just everything, really.

On the whole the entire thing was incredibly dull and uncomfortable, but there was a brief moment of interest when Amidala’s sister came over with her family in tow. Amidala gave what Anakin was pretty sure the first genuine smile she’d had all day, if not the entire time he’d known her, as she rose from her seat to greet them. Anakin rose as well, observing them curiously. They certainly didn’t look evil; on the contrary, the two little girls whom he presumed were Amidala’s nieces were actually very adorable.

“Congratulations,” Amidala’s sister said, throwing her arms around her.

“Thank you,” Amidala replied, hugging her back before moving on to accept hugs from the rest of the family. Then she turned to Anakin. “Everyone, this is Anakin. Anakin, this is my sister Sola, her husband Darred, and their daughters Ryoo and Pooja.”

“Hello,” said Anakin, but he’d hardly gotten the word out before Sola was throwing her arms around him as well. He stiffened in surprise, relaxing a little after a moment and realizing that he had no idea when he had last been hugged. The Jedi weren’t big on hugs.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Anakin,” Sola said. “I’ll admit, we were all very surprised when we heard about the wedding, but Padmé told us you were wonderful and she was so thrilled to be marrying you, so then we were thrilled too.”

“Oh. Yes. I…am also thrilled.” He really was trying his best to sound convincing, but the exasperated look Amidala gave him over Sola’s shoulder told him he hadn’t done a very good job of it.

Sola let go of him at last and Darred shook his hand and congratulated him, and Ryoo gazed shyly up at him while Pooja tugged on Amidala’s skirt and said, “Auntie Padmé, is that my new uncle? Mama said I was gonna have a new uncle.”

Sola and Darred chuckled, and Amidala knelt down to Pooja’s level and smiled at her. “Yes, this is your Uncle Anakin,” she said. “Say hello.”

“Hi!” Pooja said, beaming up at him.

Despite the situation, Anakin couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Pooja.”

“Thanks!”

“I think you mean ‘nice to meet you too,’ sweetie,” Amidala said, laughing.

Pooja obligingly repeated her words and then Ryoo said hello as well. But Anakin could hardly take his eyes off Amidala. Interacting with her young nieces like this, she seemed almost…human.

They chatted for a little while longer, and then Amidala said, “Thank you so much for having us to stay for a few days.”

That’s right, this must be the sister she’d mentioned visiting during their honeymoon. “We’re more than happy to,” Sola assured her. “It’s been too long since my baby sister’s come for a visit.”

Amidala rolled her eyes and swatted her sister’s arm in a way that was oddly childish and innocent. Anakin really didn’t know what to make of all this.

Thankfully, her family departed again a moment later to allow them to speak with other guests and Anakin was able to put Amidala back into the correct compartment in his mind. She belonged with politicians and imperials; it was unsettling to see her associate with her own family, with young children. To see her display genuine human affection and warmth.

When the festivities finally drew to a close late that night, Anakin’s split second of relief was promptly chased away as he realized that it was now officially his and Amidala’s wedding night. The smirks all the guests gave them as they got up to leave told him that everyone else was thinking along the same lines.

He spent the entire walk back to their rooms trying to prevent his heart from beating out of his chest. Amidala had grown even tenser, if that was possible; Anakin got the distinct impression that if he were to push her over, she’d shatter into a thousand pieces when she hit the floor.

The handmaidens led the newlyweds to Amidala’s bedroom, then shut the door after them. Shouldn’t they stay to help Amidala out of her complex wedding gown? Then again, they were probably expecting Anakin to do that.

What in all the Sith hells had he gotten himself into?

The tension in the room was palpable, and the heavy silence was unbearable. Anakin was trying very hard not to look at Amidala, and he was also trying very hard not to look at the gigantic bed at the other end of the room. He’d known this would have to happen, had been dreading it ever since he’d arrived on Coruscant, but now that it was _actually_ happening, here and now…well, it was another matter entirely.

Eventually it got to the point where Anakin legitimately wondered if they’d end up standing frozen in the middle of the room all night. Not that he’d really mind, considering the alternative. Sure, Amidala was attractive, but the idea of actually having _sex_ with her…

But Anakin knew he had no choice. Even if they didn’t consummate the marriage that night, eventually Palpatine, and the galaxy, and Amidala herself would expect them to produce heirs so that the Empire could continue on. It was inevitable, really. And so at last Anakin slowly shrugged his cloak off and said, trying to sound steadier than he felt, “I suppose we’d better get on with it.”

Amidala had been gazing out the window into the black night, lit up by Coruscant’s millions of artificial lights and all the fireworks to celebrate the imperial wedding, but now she turned towards him, looking nervous but determined. “We don’t have to,” she said quietly.

Anakin stared at her. “What?”

She sighed. “It’s just the two of us now. We don’t have to pretend anymore. I know you wanted no part of this marriage. I know you hate me. So I’m not going to make you do anything else you don’t want to do.”

Anakin could hardly believe his ears. “But—but what about—people will expect—don’t you need heirs?”

Amidala shrugged. “Eventually,” she said. “But I’m young, I have plenty of childbearing years left. It’s not something I need to be worried about in the immediate future.”

“So you aren’t—you aren’t going to make me sleep with you tonight?” Anakin said.

“No.”

Anakin mulled this over. Perhaps Amidala was not _quite_ as horrible a person as he’d originally thought. Not that that was saying much. “Well, we should at least make it look like we did,” he decided. “To avoid suspicion.”

“All right. Good idea.”

Someone had transported a couple changes of clothes for Anakin into the wardrobe in Amidala’s room, presumably for the next morning. Then he realized that the only other things in the wardrobe were nightgowns. “Where are all your other clothes?” he asked over his shoulder, reaching for a pair of leggings and a sleeping tunic (both black, of course).

“I have a separate room entirely dedicated to my clothes,” Amidala said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Anakin twisted around to stare at her, letting out a disbelieving laugh as he did so. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all. It’s that door right there,” she said, pointing to a door next to the fresher. “I didn’t show it to you on our tour because I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Anakin went over to look and his jaw dropped as he saw how many gowns were in there. She really hadn’t been joking; it basically _was_ the size of an entire room. “Why in the Force do you need so many?” he demanded.

“Imperial heirs can’t afford to repeat outfits too often. The HoloNet would have a field day.”

He laughed again, and Amidala was tentatively smiling too, and as he went into the fresher to change, Anakin felt oddly—not _happy,_ obviously, but not completely miserable, either. When he returned, he saw that Amidala had taken her hair out and was in the process of scrubbing her makeup off. Anakin busied himself strewing his wedding clothes all over the floor to make it look like they’d been deposited there in the heat of passion, and after a few minutes he heard her say, sounding rather awkward, “I—um—I need help with my dress.”

When Anakin turned to look at her, he saw that she was blushing slightly and looking uncertain. “Well, it’s no wonder. That thing looks more complicated than your average starfighter,” he said, and Amidala visibly relaxed, a small chuckle escaping her.

Anakin approached her and went around to the back of her dress, and Amidala moved her hair out of the way. Her hair was really quite long, he thought absently as he fiddled with a clasp, much longer than he would’ve expected. He supposed he’d never seen her wear it down before. Anakin slowly but surely made progress on the dress, trying not to look as the fabric slid off her shoulders a bit, hand jumping when it accidentally brushed the skin of her lower back and made her inhale slightly.

“There. That should do it,” he said finally, stepping back rather hastily.

“Thank you.” Holding her wedding dress up with one hand, Amidala used the other to grab a nightgown out of the wardrobe. She too made her way over to the fresher, dress still on, but with the back of the bodice now wide open, and if Anakin stared at her bare back a little longer than was appropriate…well, no one but him would ever know.

Upon her return, Amidala seemed conflicted about whether she should drop her wedding gown in a crumpled heap or hang it up neatly, to which Anakin pointed out that she’d literally never wear it again unless she was planning to murder him in his sleep and marry someone else, in which case it would be rather tacky to wear the same wedding dress, anyway, so at last Amidala heaved a sigh, let it fall to the ground, and carefully arranged it to look like it had been thrown there carelessly.

After that, she headed towards the bed and climbed in. Anakin hesitated, feeling awkward again, and Amidala said, “Well, if we’re not even sleeping in the bed together when my handmaidens come in tomorrow morning, they’ll definitely know nothing happened.”

“Oh. Right,” Anakin said, and he gingerly got in beside her. The bed was so extravagantly gigantic that he doubted they’d even touch each other, unless one or both of them really flailed around in their sleep, but still, it felt strange. The only time he’d shared a bed with someone else was as a child, with his mother on Tatooine. Sharing a bed as an adult with Lady Amidala—his _wife_ —was another thing altogether.

They were quiet for a while, and at last Amidala said, “Goodnight, Anakin.”

“Goodnight, My Lady.”

“Padmé.”

“Right. Sorry.” He’d have to get used to that.

“It’s fine,” Amidala—Padmé said. “Sleep well.”

Anakin rolled over onto his side, facing away from her. He spent a long time trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was now married to the heir to the Galactic Empire, but he just couldn’t do it, and eventually he abandoned his thoughts and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

“My Lord?”

Someone was gently shaking him awake, and Anakin groaned softly and tried to ignore them. They must have the wrong person anyway. He wasn’t a lord. Hopefully they’d figure that out and go away soon.

“Lord Amidala?”

Oh. Wedding. Amidala. Right.

He cracked his eyes open, and a dark-haired woman came swimming into view. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and realized it was Rabé. “Mmmm?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you’re due to leave for Naboo in two hours,” she told him.

Naboo. For the honeymoon. Although, Anakin realized with a sudden flash of hope, if Amidala—Padmé, he had to remember to call her Padmé or she’d get annoyed—if she wasn’t interested in sleeping with him for now, maybe it actually would be a relatively enjoyable honeymoon. At least he’d get to be out of the imperial palace for a week.

He threw off the covers and stood up and stretched. Glancing around the room, he saw that Padmé was seated at her vanity table, already fully dressed, as two other handmaidens did her hair. She nodded politely at him and he returned the gesture. Anakin made his way over to the wardrobe, grabbed yet another black outfit, and headed for the fresher.

He took a long shower before changing into his chosen outfit and going back into the bedroom. Padmé’s hair was done and the two handmaidens had moved on to makeup. Rabé and Eirtaé fussed over Anakin’s appearance a little bit because apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job getting dressed, but at last he and Padmé were both ready to leave.

Though before they could, Padmé turned to him and said, “First, I wanted to give you my wedding gift.”

“Oh,” said Anakin, curious despite himself. “Me too.”

At a nod from her, the two handmaidens who’d been attending her—Anakin wanted to say it was Sabé and Dormé, though he wasn’t positive—left the room and came back with a blue and white astromech droid.

“This is R2-D2,” Padmé said. “I know astromechs are primarily used on starships and you won’t be doing much flying—” Seeing as he was a captive and all “—but he’s useful for dozens of other things too. And…I thought you could use some kind of companion. Down at the hangar they told me he’s very feisty, so I thought you’d get along well.”

Anakin smiled and knelt down as the droid came over to him, beeping curiously. “Hey there,” Anakin said. “I’m Anakin. And you’re R2-D2?” Affirmative beep. “Nice to meet you.” Another beep, and Anakin laughed. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“What did he say?” asked Padmé.

“That’s between us.”

“So, the two of you are having secrets already. Wonderful,” she said sarcastically. But when he glanced up at her, he saw that she looked pleased her gift had gone over so well.

“I have something for you too,” Anakin said, standing back up. “Let me go and—”

“No need, My Lord, I have it,” Eirtaé said, patting her pocket.

She came over and gave it to him, and Anakin turned around and held it out to Padmé. She took it from him, smiling as she studied the carved wood. “This is a beautiful necklace,” she said. “Wherever did you find it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I made it,” Anakin said.

Padmé lifted her eyes from the necklace to him, looking surprised. “You made this?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t really difficult, I’ve been carving stuff practically my whole life,” he said modestly. “I made something similar for my mother when I was just a kid. It’s supposed to bring good fortune.” _Not that that helped Mom,_ he added silently.

Padmé stared wordlessly at the necklace for so long that Anakin started to fear she didn’t like it. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not—not like the kinds of gifts you’re probably used to,” he mumbled, feeling embarrassed. He’d been so proud of that necklace, but Padmé probably saw it as a worthless piece of junk. “And especially when you gave me such a nice fancy droid—”

“No, Anakin, I love it,” she interrupted, giving him a small but genuine smile. “I just—I didn’t know what to say. You _made_ this with your own hands, for _me._ It’s…been a long time since anyone’s done something like that for me.”

Anakin didn’t know why he was so happy that she liked it—really, he shouldn’t have cared at all, or if anything he should’ve purposely gotten her something she _wouldn’t_ like just to make her mad. But even as hard as he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t deny that he felt a burst of pride when Padmé immediately unclasped the necklace and put it on, still smiling. It didn’t go with her imperial finery at all, but nevertheless she looked in the mirror and declared that it was perfect.

They headed down to the imperial hangar, the handmaidens carrying all the luggage. Anakin had tried to carry his own bag, but Eirtaé wouldn’t hear of it and had taken it from him despite his protests. Now he didn’t know what to do with his hands as he walked, so he stuffed them awkwardly in his pockets. Padmé cleared her throat and gave him a significant look, and it wasn’t until she moved her left hand towards him slightly that Anakin realized she was trying to get him to hold it because they were married now and wanted people to think that they at least liked each other.

So Anakin removed his right hand from his pocket and took her offered hand, suddenly self-conscious of his new cybernetic arm. But Padmé had no visible reaction, though she must have been able to feel that there was metal rather than flesh under the glove.

“This is our ship,” she said when they arrived, pointing with her free hand to a beautiful chrome ship which Anakin thought might’ve been the one that had taken him from Tatooine, though at the time he hadn’t been paying much attention to what the outside looked like.

This trip was more agreeable than the last, considering there weren’t Stormtroopers eyeing him suspiciously the whole time with their hands on their blasters. Aside from him and Padmé, it was only the handmaidens who were coming with them. And Artoo, whom Anakin spent most of the flight talking with. Padmé was right about his feistiness—Anakin didn’t think he’d ever met a droid with so much personality—and by the time they arrived on Naboo Anakin felt he had a new friend. Even in only two weeks at the palace he’d nearly gone mad with boredom and loneliness, and now he’d have a permanent companion. Maybe Padmé had noticed this and that was why she’d given him Artoo as her gift.

Anakin gave his head a shake. Why would he think Padmé cared one way or the other about his emotional wellbeing as long as he was doing a good job acting the part in public? A task which he had to return to as they disembarked at the palace hangar in Theed, Naboo’s capital. It was bustling with Nabooian pilots and palace employees going about their daily business, and as he felt curious eyes on him Anakin did his best to follow Padmé’s example by smiling and looking friendly but not stopping to interact with anybody.

Their first stop was a meeting with Queen Jamillia in the throne room. Anakin didn’t say much (Padmé seemed to know her well and did most of the talking) but his impression of the queen was positive overall. In fact, as they left he found himself wondering how such a seemingly decent person could stand to be in the service of the Empire. Perhaps she thought it was best for her people? But all the economic benefits and technological improvements in the galaxy couldn’t replace freedom, surely.

Especially when one planet’s prosperity came at the price of another’s suffering. Anakin had been to those planets during the final years of the Republic, had seen mining worlds where the Republic had stripped all their resources and left behind a starving population, and he was sure the Empire was even worse in that regard. Naboo’s beauty and visible affluence were just about as far from that as you could get.

“There’s one more thing I have to do before we go to my sister’s house,” Padmé said, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Stay here with Rabé and Eirtaé, wander around the city a little and explore. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Where are you going?” Anakin asked.

“Nowhere that will interest you,” Padmé said vaguely, which piqued his curiosity from minimal to high. He realized that despite all her other undesirable qualities, since he’d gotten to Coruscant she’d always been pretty upfront with him. Why was she being so cagey all of a sudden? Maybe she already had a secret lover on the side, Anakin thought with amusement and a hint of something more bitter. If so she could’ve at least mentioned it to him, it wasn’t like he would’ve objected anyway.

He obediently walked around the city for a while with Rabé and Eirtaé in tow while the rest accompanied Padmé on her mysterious errand. Theed _was_ beautiful and packed with points of interest, but Anakin wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing, not when people gawked at him everywhere and in the back of his mind he kept wondering where Padmé had gone.

Finally in a little bakery, after Anakin had enjoyed a typical Nabooian pastry (and probably given the owner cause to later put up a sign proudly declaring that Lord Amidala had frequented his establishment), he managed to give his handmaidens the slip by going to the fresher in the back of the shop, then climbing out the window and hightailing it out of there. He was suddenly glad for the ridiculous travel cloak they’d made him wear because he was able to put his hood up and move through the city unnoticed (his imperial finery actually wasn’t too out of place with the Nabooians’ high fashion).

Anakin tried to reach out in the Force to see where Padmé was. The city was crowded with the Force presences of thousands of other sentient beings and for a few minutes Anakin thought it was hopeless, but then his heart leapt as he finally latched on to a familiar one. She felt…sad, he realized in confusion. Probably not a secret lover, then (unless she was in the process of breaking up with them). What was she doing?

He kept his attention focused on Padmé’s presence as he weaved his way through the streets trying to find her. He lost it a few times but always managed to relocate it, and near the edge of the city Anakin could feel that he was close. Instinct took him down a deserted path and up a flight of stone stairs. At the top was a narrow tower and a bridge across the river with a domed building on the other side.

Anakin hesitated for a second before deciding that the tower was the right place. He made his way around the base, looking for a door—

—and was stopped by several handmaidens. “Lord Amidala,” Sabé said, disapproval in her voice. “I believe Lady Amidala asked you to remain in the city proper.”

“She did, but—”

“And where are Rabé and Eirtaé?”

“We…got separated,” Anakin said feebly. “I was just curious about what Lady Amidala was doing and why she wouldn’t tell me.”

Sabé frowned at him. “How did you know she was here?”

“I felt it. In the Force,” he clarified when she looked puzzled. “So what’s she doing?”

Sabé heaved a long-suffering sigh, apparently realizing he wasn’t going to stop bothering her unless she gave him a satisfactory answer. “She is engaging in a private mourning ritual and does not wish to be disturbed,” she said.

“Mourning?” Anakin repeated, startled. “For who?”

“My Lord, with all due respect—”

“Surely if she’s in mourning, her husband ought to be with her,” Anakin said, thinking quickly. “To provide comfort and support.”

Sabé pursed her lips, but after a moment she shook her head and stood aside. “Very well,” she said. “But don’t blame me if she’s upset with you.”

Anakin started climbing the spiral stairs, not quite sure why he was so interested in spending time with Padmé all of a sudden when up until that afternoon he’d been doing everything he could to avoid her. He was just curious about who she could possibly be mourning. She’d never mentioned knowing anyone who’d died recently, and he wasn’t entirely sure she felt human emotions strongly enough to get attached to another person anyway. Except for her sister and nieces, Anakin remembered, once again getting a funny feeling as he recalled how happy and _normal_ she’d seemed with them.

He put it out of his mind as he reached the top of the stairs. There was a flame burning in a brazier in the center of the room, and Padmé was kneeling in front of it with her back to him. She turned to look at him when she heard his footsteps. “Anakin? What are you doing here?” she said, though her attempt at annoyance was halfhearted at best.

 _I was feeling nosy and I tracked you via the Force and followed you._ Anakin had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. “I was just wondering where you’d gone and went looking for you,” he said as nonchalantly as he could. He took a hesitant step closer and saw in surprise that there were tears on her cheeks. “Are…are you all right?”

Padmé quickly looked away and reached up to dry her cheeks. “I’m fine.”

Almost every instinct Anakin had was telling him to turn around and leave again, but for some reason he found himself moving closer and kneeling down beside her. “Sabé told me you were mourning someone?” he said.

She nodded, still not looking at him. “My parents.”

Anakin blinked at her in astonishment. He _had_ wondered about her parents since she’d never mentioned them and they hadn’t been at the wedding even though her sister had, but he’d had no idea they were dead. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his tone quiet and, surprising even himself, sincere. “Was it recent?”

“No, it was years ago. I was only fourteen,” Padmé said. “But still, whenever I come back to Theed I like to stop here and take a moment to honor their memory.”

Anakin wanted to ask what had happened to them—if both parents had died around the same time, surely that implied some sort of incident rather than an illness or natural death?—but knew that would be rude. “What is this place?” he asked instead.

“Livet Tower,” she said. “The building just across the river is the Funeral Temple, where we cremate our dead. And this—” she waved her hand at the brazier “—is the Eternal Flame. We gather around it for a moment of contemplation just after the funeral ceremony, so that’s why I like to come back to it. It reminds us that we are mortal and that we should live in harmony rather than wasting our finite lives by being in conflict with each other.”

The Naboo _did_ have a reputation for being peace-lovers. “On Tatooine we bury our dead,” Anakin offered after a moment. “We believe that we come from the earth, so it’s fitting to return to it. I…” He licked his lips, oddly nervous to continue. “My mother died a few years ago, and she was the only family I had. So…I understand what you’ve been through, at least a little bit.”

He worried Padmé might snap at him, but instead she gave him a small smile and didn’t say anything. After another moment or two, Anakin said rather awkwardly, “Well, I’m sorry for disturbing you, I’ll just leave you alone to—”

“You can stay,” she said softly, and it might’ve been the light of the flames but he thought her cheeks were a little pink. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Anakin sat quietly with her for a few more minutes until she was ready to leave, and then he followed her out of the room. “Thank you,” Padmé said as they walked down the stairs.

“For what?”

“For understanding,” she said simply.

Really, Anakin didn’t think he’d ever understood anything less. Seeing Padmé show vulnerability in front of him like that…it was very odd. He didn’t think he liked it. She was much easier to handle when she was being cool and aloof.

Still, something prompted him to take her hand of his own accord, and he didn’t let go of it until they’d walked back into the city and all the way to her sister’s house. But it was just for show, playing the part of happy newlyweds. Wasn’t it?

They were received enthusiastically at the door by Sola, and a moment later Ryoo and Pooja came hurtling into the entryway and Padmé’s waiting arms. Anakin tried not to watch her smiling and kissing their foreheads, and instead he settled his attention on Sola and Darred, who had entered a few steps behind the girls.

“Congratulations again,” Sola said, catching him off guard with a hug just as she had at the wedding. “How are you enjoying your first day in Theed?”

“It’s a beautiful city,” Anakin said honestly. “If I grew up here I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

Sola laughed. “That’s why I’m still here,” she agreed. “But Padmé was always looking for something bigger, even when we were children.”

Anakin simply could not picture Padmé as a young innocent child, so he mentally discarded that comment and moved on to the next topic of conversation. Dusk was falling when they’d arrived, so they sat down to dinner as soon as Anakin and Padmé had dropped their things off in the largest guest room (there were a few smaller ones where the handmaidens would be staying).

“So, Anakin, tell us about yourself,” Sola said as she poured him a glass of wine.

Anakin took a sip and struggled not to make a face at the bitter taste. “What would you like to know?” he asked, feeling nervous.

“Everything. Your home planet is Tatooine, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like there? I’ve never been.”

“It’s just desert,” Anakin said. “Mostly a wasteland, except a few inhabited areas. My mother and I lived in one of the spaceport settlements, Mos Espa.”

“Your mother?” Sola said curiously. “Was she at the wedding? I don’t recall seeing any relatives of yours there.”

Anakin shook his head, feeling a fresh stab of pain even though it had been years. “No, she died several years ago,” she said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sola said, looking sympathetic. “We lost our parents too, I know how painful it is.”

Anakin nodded, feeling awkward, and took another sip of wine to give himself something to do.

“You used to be a Jedi,” Darred said after a beat of silence, the sentence somewhere between a statement and a question.

“Yes,” Anakin said rather warily. What if they didn’t believe the official story that he’d had a change of heart and joined the Empire willingly?

“A Jedi? Wow!” Pooja exclaimed.

“Jedi have magic powers,” Ryoo added. “Do you have magic powers?”

“I guess you could say that,” Anakin said, smiling a little despite himself at their wide-eyed innocence.

Pooja sighed wistfully. _“I_ wanna be a Jedi.”

“No, you don’t, darling,” Sola said hastily. “Jedi are troublemakers.”

“Oh. But Uncle Ani is a Jedi,” she observed, and Anakin felt his heart melt a little at the new nickname, one he hadn’t heard since his mother’s death. “Is he a troublemaker?”

Padmé laughed. “Sometimes,” she said. “Besides, he _used_ to be a Jedi. He’s not anymore.”

“What made you see sense?” Sola asked.

Anakin bristled a little at the question, though he reminded himself it was only natural the sister of the imperial heir would have been led to believe, like the rest of the galaxy, that the Jedi and Rebellion were terrorists and the Empire had everyone’s best interests at heart. “Well…” he said, trying to think quickly of a plausible answer. “I started to realize that the Jedi are arrogant, hypocritical. They claim to be keepers of peace galaxy-wide, but they would only send aid to troubled planets if it would benefit the Republic. They should have been an independent organization, but they were completely under the Senate’s thumb. So in many cases they turned a blind eye to injustices that were happening because trying to do something about them would be contrary to the Senate’s agenda. I suppose it made me realize that democracy didn’t work anymore and that the Empire could only be an improvement.”

Anakin quickly clamped his mouth shut, realizing with some alarm how passionately he’d been speaking. How many of those words had come from the heart rather than being falsehoods made up on the spot. The age-old resentment he’d felt towards the Jedi for never doing anything about slavery on Tatooine was bubbling up to the surface, and he struggled to push it down. _I didn’t come here to free slaves,_ Qui-Gon had said dismissively, crushing all the hopes of a nine-year-old boy who’d spent his whole life dreaming that the Jedi he’d heard stories about would swoop in to rescue him and his mother and all his friends from slavery.

But they’d only bothered coming to Tatooine because their ship had broken down while they were in the middle of some other Republic-sanctioned mission, and they’d only bothered buying Anakin’s freedom because they’d discovered he was strong in the Force and would make a valuable tool.

“Well said,” Darred was saying while Sola nodded in agreement, and Anakin forced himself to come back to the present. No use dwelling on decade-old wrongs that he’d already made peace with. Or at least, he’d _thought_ he had.

“On Naboo, we used to value democracy as strongly as anyone else in the galaxy,” Sola said. “But that changed with the invasion.”

“Invasion?” Anakin said blankly.

“The Trade Federation’s invasion of Naboo,” Padmé said, suddenly looking rather nauseous. “Thirteen years ago.”

Anakin had only been nine at the time and not paying attention to intergalactic politics, and he didn’t recall ever hearing anything about an invasion of Naboo in the subsequent years. “What happened?”

Padmé glanced at Ryoo and Pooja, who were watching the adults with confusion. “I’ll tell you later,” she said. “But this is supposed to be our honeymoon away from Coruscant, we’ve already had too much political talk tonight.”

Sola and Darred seemed all too eager to change the subject, and Anakin went along with it too. “So what happened in the invasion of Naboo?” he asked Padmé a couple hours later when they were finally alone in their bedroom.

“You’ve really never heard of it?” she said. Anakin sensed she was stalling.

“No, I was only a child at the time and still on Tatooine, or maybe just coming to Coruscant for the first time,” he said. “Please tell me.”

She sighed. “Fine. It was my first term as queen. The Republic had recently started taxing the Free Trade Zones, and the Trade Federation wasn’t happy about it, so in retaliation they blockaded Naboo,” she said. “I don’t know why they chose Naboo specifically, but they did. My handmaidens and I barely managed to escape Theed when their ships came, and we flew straight to Coruscant to beg for aid from the Senate. After many days of deliberation, they chose not to send aid.”

“But it was their fault Naboo was blockaded in the first place,” Anakin said indignantly.

“I know. But they didn’t want to make the Trade Federation a bigger enemy than they already had, so they decided to stay out of it and let us fend for ourselves,” Padmé said bitterly. “I returned to Naboo at once, intending to free my people myself if the Republic wouldn’t help. But the Senate had taken so long to reach their decision that by the time I arrived, the Trade Federation had sacked Theed and gone on their way again. They destroyed my home just to prove a point to the Republic.

“I still remember walking through the streets that day,” she said, and Anakin saw her eyes shining with tears. “There was blood staining the cobblestones, and the air was heavy with smoke from burning buildings, and everywhere I looked I saw my people dead or dying. It was only by chance that my sister wasn’t in Theed, she was attending university elsewhere on Naboo. But when I arrived at my childhood home, my parents—my parents were—”

She stopped to gulp for air, but she didn’t have to finish the sentence. Feeling sick, and heartbroken, and outraged, and reminded viscerally of the day he’d walked into the Tusken camp and found his mother dying after weeks of being tortured, Anakin leaned over and wordlessly enveloped Padmé in a hug. At first she stiffened, but after a moment she relaxed a little against him, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

His natural reaction was to say something like, _That’s horrible,_ but Padmé was well aware that it was horrible, she didn’t need him to tell her that. “I can’t believe I never heard of an atrocity like that,” he said instead. “Did the Senate try to cover it up because it made them look bad?”

“I think so,” Padmé replied. “I was busy with rebuilding and relief efforts for most of the rest of my years as queen, so I didn’t pay much attention to what was going on outside of Naboo, but even so I noticed that the wider galactic news outlets never reported much about it. The one good thing that came out of it was my calling for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum and the Emperor being elected to replace him. That gave him the position he needed to eventually reorganize the Republic into the Empire and put a stop to the corruption and ineffectiveness of the Senate.”

For the first time, Anakin felt like he understood how her mind worked. No wonder she had lost faith in democracy after what the Republic had allowed to happen to her planet, to her parents. No wonder she had seen Palpatine, a fellow Nabooian, slowly centralizing power for a decade and then declaring himself emperor as a change for the better. No wonder she had agreed to become his heir and help run the Empire for the rest of her life.

Padmé extracted herself from his arms and wiped her eyes, and when she turned to look at him suddenly the cool politician was back. “We will not speak of this in the morning,” she said stiffly, and without another word she climbed in bed and pulled the covers over herself.

“Okay,” Anakin said, shaking his head in amazement. It was remarkable how quickly she could flip the switch; he half felt like her breakdown from ten seconds ago hadn’t even happened at all. He supposed that was what made her such a good politician.

But…there was definitely a real, sensitive, and maybe even _loving_ human being under there somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the info about Nabooian funerary and mourning rituals from Wookieepedia, so it's legit I didn't just make it up haha


	6. Chapter 6

True to his word, Anakin made no mention of their late night conversation the next day, and Padmé did such a good job acting like it hadn’t happened that once again, he almost wondered if he’d hallucinated the whole thing. But the way her voice had trembled and cracked as she spoke, the way her eyes had shone with tears, the way she’d allowed Anakin to hold her and even leaned into him for comfort…Anakin’s subconscious would never have been able to make that up.

He tried to put it out of his mind. Unfortunately, the more time he spent watching Padmé around her family, the harder it was to cling to the simplicity of thinking of her as a heartless monster. That afternoon, for example, Ryoo and Pooja dragged him and Padmé off to do makeovers. “Who’s doing the makeover and who’s receiving it?” Anakin asked with some concern.

Sola just chuckled and waved him off. “I’m sure you’ll find out in a minute.”

As it turned out, all four of them would be taking turns giving and receiving makeovers. “Auntie Padmé, will you do my hair?” Ryoo asked hopefully, practically shoving her hairbrush in her hands.

“Nooo, I wanted Auntie Padmé to do _my_ hair!” Pooja whined.

“I asked first!”

“We’ll take turns,” Padmé interrupted soothingly, taking the hairbrush and steering Ryoo to sit down in front of the mirror.

“I can do your hair, Pooja,” Anakin offered. “But I’m not as good at it as Padmé.”

Pooja beamed at him nevertheless. “That’s okay!”

So Anakin found himself brushing her hair, and after a couple minutes he snuck a glance over at Padmé to see what he was supposed to do next. She was already halfway through a complicated-looking braided hairstyle for Ryoo that Anakin had no hopes of replicating.

Then he had an idea. His hands weren’t skilled enough to do much more than a ponytail (not to mention he was worried about his cybernetic hand getting stuck in Pooja’s hair), but the Force would be. He harnessed it and used it to float around different strands of her hair, braiding and twisting carefully and neatly.

“Whoa, cool!” Pooja exclaimed when she saw what he was doing in the mirror.

Ryoo immediately twisted around to look, dislodging several pins and earning a tut from Padmé. “Aww, I wish Uncle Ani was doing _my_ hair,” she pouted.

Anakin would’ve expected Padmé to give him a resentful look for stealing away her nieces’ affection, but the expression on her face as she watched him was…almost _fond._

Once their hair was done, the girls begged to be allowed to wear makeup, which Padmé handled all on her own because Anakin knew even with the Force’s help he’d make a mess of it. He was actually a bit surprised to see how skilled Padmé was at doing hair and makeup; though she did always sport elaborate hairstyles and perfect makeup, he’d assumed she’d spent her whole life having other people do that for her rather than ever doing it herself.

“Now it’s your turn!” Pooja announced when Padmé had finished.

Anakin exchanged a half-amused and half-nervous look with her, and for a moment he could’ve believed they were actually a happily married couple spending a fun afternoon with their nieces.

As the second round of makeovers commenced, Padmé entertained the girls with a story about some mischief she and Sola had gotten up to as children while Anakin tried not to wince as Pooja tugged a comb through his hair none too gently. Padmé looked utterly content as the three of them giggled together at Sola’s expense, and gradually Anakin felt something wash over him in the Force.

It was…longing, he realized, emanating from Padmé. A longing so strong and sad it made a lump form in his throat. A longing for a child of her own, the Force whispered to him next. Playing with Ryoo and Pooja like this was making her wish they were her own children, making her wish she could be a mother instead of just an aunt.

Anakin furrowed his brow and concentrated harder. Surely that couldn’t be right, surely Padmé didn’t care about having children beyond the purposes of having an heir. She had to be the least maternal being in the galaxy. But the Force wasn’t lying.

Before Anakin had time to puzzle over this revelation any further, Ryoo said, “Auntie Padmé, how did you and Uncle Ani fall in love?”

Anakin grimaced internally, thankful a professional liar like Padmé had been on the receiving end of that question instead of him. “Oh, there’s not much to tell. It all happened so fast,” Padmé said. _It sure did,_ Anakin thought grumpily. One minute he was on the run from the Empire, and the next he’d been dragged right into the belly of the beast.

“I wanna hear the story!” Pooja chimed in.

“Pleeeaase?”

“All right, all right. Anakin came to Coruscant to speak with the Emperor, and I was introduced to him,” Padmé began. “And…it was love at first sight, I suppose. As soon as I looked into his eyes for the first time, I knew he was the one. And he felt the same way about me.”

“Sure did,” Anakin said, fighting hard to keep sarcasm out of his tone.

Both girls sighed dreamily. “That’s _so_ romantic,” Ryoo said.

“I wanna get married and wear a pretty dress!” Pooja added.

Padmé laughed. “Your time will come eventually, but you’re a little young for that right now,” she said.

“I wish I was a grown-up.”

“Well, I wish I was a little girl again,” Padmé said. “Cherish being children, trust me. Someday you’ll wish you hadn’t grown up so fast.” Anakin thought about how quickly she must’ve grown up having to singlehandedly deal with her planet’s crisis and cope with her parents’ death when she was only fourteen, and for a moment he felt genuinely sad for her.

But it didn’t matter. Whatever compassionate little girl had once existed in her was gone, Anakin reminded himself. She had _chosen_ to serve a tyrannical regime. No amount of childhood suffering could excuse that. Especially not when she’d spent her childhood living in luxury and comfort while he’d been toiling in the desert, enslaved, practically since he was old enough to walk.

And yet, deep inside him, that little spark of sympathy persisted.

They were only spending two nights with the Naberries and moving on to the Lake Country in the morning, which Anakin hoped meant only one more night of sharing a bed with Padmé before they could have their own rooms again without raising suspicion. They got ready for bed in silence, and after climbing under the covers they each stayed firmly on their own side, carefully avoiding touching each other.

Anakin wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet, his mind still whirling with the revelations of the past couple days. At last, despite his best judgment, he broke the silence. “You want a child,” he said apropos of nothing. He didn’t know why he felt the need to bring up this topic, other than that there was something about the dark, quiet room empty of anyone but the two of them that made him feel like he could speak more freely than he could in the daytime.

Silence returned—a much tenser one this time—and it went on for so long that Anakin thought Padmé had already fallen asleep, or perhaps had heard his statement but intended to ignore it. But at last she said, “What?”

Anakin rolled over to look at her, though she remained lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. “You want a child,” he repeated.

“I have no particular interest in children,” Padmé told the ceiling. “I would like to have an heir eventually, yes, but otherwise I couldn’t care less.”

“You’re lying,” Anakin said. “I saw you with Ryoo and Pooja today. I saw the way you were looking at them when you thought no one was watching you. You were looking at them like you were wishing on every star in the galaxy that they were your own children instead of your nieces.”

“You’re mistaken,” she said, though she paused for a long moment before speaking. “Ryoo and Pooja are my nieces and I love them very much. That’s all you saw.”

“That’s not how you felt in the Force. In the Force I could sense… _wistfulness_ rolling off you so strongly it was suffocating.”

“You probed my emotions in the Force?” Padmé said, a hard edge to her voice.

“Not on purpose,” Anakin said defensively. He knew better than to pry into her head; regardless of it being a gross invasion of privacy, her mental shields had always been too strong for him to get past easily. But sometimes, like with the girls that afternoon and when she’d visited the Eternal Flame for her parents the day before, her emotions were so strong that they leaked past her shields and he couldn’t help but feel them.

“I would appreciate it if you refrained from invading my mind in the future,” Padmé said in clipped tones.

“I told you, it was an accident. And I don’t see why it’s such a big deal that I picked up on the fact that you want a child,” Anakin said rather petulantly. “I’m your husband. I’m the one person you _should_ trust enough to tell that to.”

“You and I both know you’re my husband in name only,” Padmé replied, and for some reason the words stung Anakin, though he’d thought the exact same thing more times than he could count.

“Well, I’m still the one who’s going to father your child,” he pointed out. “Unless you plan on having an affair and risk it being discovered that your heir is illegitimate.”

“Of course I’m not going to have an affair,” Padmé snapped, sounding almost offended that he would suggest such a thing, as if their marriage was anything more than a political sham. “But even if I did, the child wouldn’t be illegitimate. I’m the heir to the Empire, not you. As long as it’s _my_ true child, its father’s identity is inconsequential.”

“Thanks,” Anakin muttered, once more feeling strangely hurt. “Anyway, I don’t see why you keep pretending to _me_ that you have no interest in having a child. It’s not like my opinion of things matters in this relationship. If you wanted a child, you could’ve just said so and slept with me and had done with it.”

Padmé snorted and remained silent, so after a moment he prodded, “Well? Why didn’t you?”

“Why? Because I am well aware that you despise me, and funnily enough that’s not a turn-on for me,” Padmé snapped. “I don’t wish to discuss this again. Goodnight.” She finally rolled over, though to face away from Anakin rather than towards him.

“Oh,” he said rather lamely. He supposed it was perfectly reasonable to not want to sleep with someone who hated you, but somehow he’d assumed Padmé would only care about the physical pleasures of sex rather than any emotional aspect.

Anakin sighed and rolled over again so that his back was to her as well. How was it possible that the more he got to know her, the less he understood her? “Padmé?” he said after another minute.

“What?” she said coldly.

“I don’t… _despise_ you.”

She said nothing in response, leaving his words hanging in the air between them until they’d both fallen asleep.

* * *

The rest of the honeymoon passed relatively smoothly seeing as Varykino was so big that it was easy for Anakin and Padmé to avoid each other. All too soon they were arriving back on Coruscant; Anakin already missed the fresh air and greenery of Naboo as he watched the cityscape materialize through the clouds.

When they got back to the palace, Padmé was immediately swept up in whatever political business she had to deal with on a daily basis, leaving Anakin to return to their rooms on his own with Artoo and some of the handmaidens. He’d only been there for a little while when Rabé came bustling in to find him, saying, “The Emperor has requested your presence in the throne room in two hours to begin your training.”

Training? Oh. Not only was he married to the heir to the Galactic Empire, he was also a Sith apprentice now. His life was going really well.

Anakin felt an uneasy jolt in his stomach as he contemplated the prospect of his first session of Sith training, something he’d been doing his best to forget about in the lead-up to the wedding. He’d been dreading marrying Padmé, but now that was all over and done with. He’d been dreading sleeping with her, but now that was no longer a problem, at least for the time being. But most of all, he’d been dreading Palpatine training him in the Dark Side, and Anakin had a feeling that obstacle would be much harder to deal with than the first two had been.

Two hours later, he reluctantly allowed his handmaidens to escort him out of his and Padmé’s rooms. They led him down to the throne room which, when they entered, was deserted except for Palpatine. “Ah, my young apprentice,” said Palpatine, looking pleased. He glanced over towards Rabé and Eirtaé. “Leave us.”

They obediently went to wait in the corridor outside. Anakin was about one second away from begging them not to leave him alone with Palpatine, but he knew the Emperor would override him anyway, so he kept quiet, figuring there was no point in making a scene when he had no chance of success.

Once master and apprentice were alone, Palpatine deigned to stand from his throne and descend the steps down to where Anakin stood. “I would like to congratulate you again on your marriage, Lord Amidala.”

Anakin would really have to work on getting used to that name. “Thank you,” he said shortly.

“I think last week’s festivities went quite well, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _Master,_ ” Palpatine corrected.

Anakin glowered at him and remained silent. As far as he was concerned, Palpatine was not and would never be his master.

Palpatine chuckled. “My, my. You’re stubborn, aren’t you, young one? I hope you didn’t give Lady Amidala this much trouble during your honeymoon.”

Anakin flushed despite himself (belatedly, he realized that was probably a good thing, seeing as it made it look like he and Padmé had actually done something in their bed besides fall asleep) but clenched his jaw and still didn’t say anything.

“Hmmm.” Palpatine tutted disapprovingly. “I see you’re going to force me to loosen your tongue.”

Then, without warning, Anakin was struck by a high voltage of electricity, and he yelled in pain and fell to his knees. After a few moments, Palpatine stopped the Force lightning and looked expectantly down at Anakin. Anakin was breathing heavily, trying to stop his body from trembling as the pain receded. At last he slowly looked up at Palpatine. “Yes, Master,” he spat.

“Good,” Palpatine said with a dreadful smile. “Feel the hatred flow through you. Use it. It will make you stronger.” He prodded Anakin with the toe of his boot. “Now, get up, my apprentice. We have much to do today.”

Anakin considered staying where he was just to be contrary, but then he decided he didn’t want to spend any more time kneeling before a Sith Lord, so he dragged himself to his feet.

“Your combat skills are quite remarkable,” Palpatine began. “There is still room for improvement, of course, but we needn’t focus on that just yet. For now, I am going to teach you how to access the Dark Side of the Force and how to immerse yourself in it.”

Palpatine started droning on and on, and Anakin did his best not to listen; he didn’t want to know any more about the Dark Side than he already did. Though perhaps he should have paid attention, because he was wholly unprepared for the wave of sensation that slammed into him minutes later.

His surroundings had changed. Rather than the imperial throne room on Coruscant, Anakin was in the desert, sand blowing everywhere, getting in his clothes and making him itch, in his lungs and making him cough, in his eyes and making them sting. He squinted up to the sky and saw two suns, one white and one blood-red. Tatooine? How had he gotten there?

But then Anakin saw that not only were his hands both whole again, they were _small,_ and he realized that he was inside one of his own memories.

Everything that happened next was a blur as memories from the first nine years of his life blended together. Anakin’s arms and back were aching with exhaustion, someone was yelling at him for being lazy and worthless, tears of anger and shame were stinging his eyes, he was being shoved to the ground and choking on the sand that filled his mouth, his insides were aching with hunger while he stared down at an empty dinner table, he was watching as a master slapped his mother across the face, fear was tearing at him as he wondered whether some indiscretion or other would set off the explosive inside him—

_Yes, Anakin. Use that fear. Use that anger. Feel the Dark Side swell within you._

“Stop!” Anakin gasped, desperately trying to shove Palpatine out of his mind and pull himself back to the present. He’d collapsed to his knees again, and Palpatine was smiling down at him. Anakin was panting and gulping in air, and he realized that there were tears on his cheeks.

“Give yourself to the Darkness, my young apprentice,” Palpatine murmured. “Only then will you be strong enough to break the chains others have imposed upon you. To inflict retribution on those who enslaved you, the way you inflicted retribution on those who killed your mother.”

Anakin went cold all over. In the three years that had passed, he’d been trying so hard to forget about his mother’s death, to forget about the way he’d slaughtered the Tusken Raiders—

There he was in that tent again, frantically untying his mother and cradling her in his arms as she gazed up at him with love in her eyes despite the blood and bruises all over her face. _I’m so proud of you, Ani. I missed you. Now I am complete. I love y—_

Tears blurring his vision, anguish flowing through every cell of his body, a sudden hot rush of rage, drawing his lightsaber, slicing through the nearest Tusken Raider, delighting in their cries of fear and pain—

“Stop it!” Anakin returned to the present again, and he was crying in earnest now. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

But Palpatine ignored him. “You have suffered so much in your short life. Always a slave, always being told what to do and where to go and how to feel. The Dark Side will free you.”

“No, it won’t,” Anakin said through gritted teeth. “Because _you’ll_ still be my master.”

Palpatine waved a hand. “I seek not to control you, but to pass on my knowledge,” he said. “You are my student, not my slave, and in the future, I hope you will be my ally. My equal.”

Anakin snorted. Emperor Palpatine wanting someone to be his equal? Sithspit.

Palpatine sighed. “I see you still don’t trust me. I suppose we’ll have to keep going, then.”

And Anakin was thrown once more into the scorching sands of Tatooine.


	7. Chapter 7

Rabé and Eirtaé escorted a shaken Anakin back to his and Padmé’s rooms after his training session was over, and he ignored their anxious inquiries into his wellbeing and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him.

He didn’t know what time it was when he got there, or how much time had passed between then and when he heard a voice say, “Anakin?”

He looked up, blinking, and saw Padmé standing there, looking bemused and concerned. Anakin was in the fresher, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up into his chest and his arms wrapped around them; he’d been sick several times after his return from his session with Palpatine, and afterwards he hadn’t had the strength to drag himself back out into his bedroom, so he’d sat on the cold floor for…hours, it must have been. Anakin didn’t really know.

Padmé knelt down beside him, hesitant but clearly worried. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you ill, or hurt?”

Anakin shook his head.

“Then what is it?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“Anakin.” He started in surprise when he felt Padmé lay a gentle hand on his arm. “Tell me. Please.”

“Why do you care?” Anakin said harshly.

Padmé drew her hand back, looking oddly…hurt. “You’re my husband,” she said after a moment.

Anakin let out a derisive snort. “That means nothing. You said so yourself just the other day.”

She sighed and was quiet for a while. “You’re right. Our marriage is all for show. But it doesn’t have to always be. If we put our personal feelings aside, I believe you and I could make a good team. We could accomplish great things together.”

“What, like ruling the galaxy? Controlling and enslaving people? Bending them to our will?”

“That’s not what I want at all,” Padmé said softly, and Anakin raised his eyebrows but she didn’t elaborate. “Regardless of the circumstances leading up to it, you and I are married now, and that means something. I want to be able to trust you, and I want you to be able to trust me. So please, Anakin, tell me what’s wrong.”

Why was she suddenly changing her tune after that night on Naboo when they’d discussed having children, and she’d sharply told him their marriage meant nothing and that he should mind his own business instead of prying into hers? Perhaps because then Anakin had been the one catching her at a vulnerable moment and she’d lashed out and gotten defensive, whereas now it was the other way around.

And what was this about her suddenly saying they should _trust_ each other? Logically, Anakin knew trusting the heir to the Empire was one of the stupidest ideas he’d heard in his entire life, but at the same time, the way she was looking at him…it was almost as if she actually _cared._ Who else in his life had ever looked at him that way? His mother, who was dead. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, whom Anakin would never see again. And now Padmé. His wife.

“It was my—my training with Palpatine,” he said at last. “He…showed me memories. My own. He was trying to make me angry and scared so that I’d give in to the Dark Side. And I was on Tatooine again. A slave again. And I—I saw my mother die again. He made me relive all the worst moments of my life. He—”

Anakin stopped, his throat closing up, but it turned out he didn’t have to elaborate any further. “Oh, Anakin,” said Padmé quietly. She was looking at him with such sadness, such _sympathy._ Why did she have sympathy for him? Maybe because she had her own demons in her past, ones _Anakin_ had comforted _her_ about only a week ago. Maybe her understanding of how awful it would be to be forced to physically relive one’s worst memories was overriding her general disdain for him. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

And she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Anakin was too stunned to push her away. On the contrary, he instinctively leaned into the touch, feeling tears begin to leak out of his eyes yet again. Anakin started to cry once more, and still Padmé held him, and he was getting tears and snot all over her gown, and still she held him, and he tentatively reached to put his own arms around her, and still she held him.

Finally, Padmé spoke again. “It was despicable of him to do that to you,” she said in a low voice, and Anakin’s eyes widened. Palpatine’s heir was openly speaking out against him? Well, he supposed a whisper to her husband alone in the fresher wasn’t exactly _open,_ but still…

No. She was still one of Palpatine’s lackeys. You could disagree with some of a person’s specific actions while still believing they were generally in the right. Anakin knew that all too well from his years butting heads with Obi-Wan and the Council. The idea that Padmé was secretly a better person than she seemed to be…that was just wishful thinking. And why? Because she’d been slightly nice to him? She was probably just trying to butter him up, trick him into trusting her only to betray him later.

But as she held him close and rubbed soothing circles on his back, it didn’t really feel like that was the case.

* * *

Every day of the next two months proceeded in much the same manner as the first day back from their honeymoon. Padmé would go off to meetings and Anakin would go off to train (except on the blissful days of freedom when Palpatine cancelled their session to attend to political affairs). But he quickly got better at pulling himself together by the time Padmé returned to their rooms, so there were no more emotional scenes like the one after his first training session. In fact, both of them pretended it had never happened and went back to their usual schedule of mostly ignoring each other. Really, Artoo, Rabé, and Eirtaé were the only ones Anakin ever talked to much.

Anakin, to his relief, had a few days to himself in a row in the third month since he’d arrived, as Palpatine was dealing with some issue or other in the Senate, but his next training session the week after was all the worse from having had time off. Apparently having decided that mental torture wasn’t working, Palpatine had just recently moved on to physical torture, perhaps hoping that Anakin would turn to the Dark Side once his brain had been completely fried by Force lightning.

They were sparring—or rather, Palpatine was standing in the middle of the room looking both bored and amused as he zapped Anakin over and over again. Anakin was doing his best to fend off the attacks with his lightsaber (Palpatine would give him his lightsaber back only for their training sessions and take it from him again at the end to store it Force knew where). But Anakin had never been very good at blocking Force lightning, not to mention it kept giving him terrible flashbacks to the Jedi purge and the duel against Dooku when he’d lost his arm.

“Come now, is that really the best you can do?” Palpatine asked as he casually Force-threw Anakin across the room. “I thought you were the Chosen One.”

Anakin snarled angrily and started struggling to his feet when he was hit by another round of Force lightning, knocking him back to the ground. No matter how many times it happened, it never got any less painful. Anakin felt like his every nerve ending was on fire, it was excruciating, he could hardly even see through the agony, he was screaming and screaming and screaming—

“Stop this at once!”

The pain stopped, and Anakin curled up on the floor, reminding himself that _you are a Jedi Knight, you can handle a little pain,_ but that didn’t stop him from emitting a few small whimpers.

“Lady Amidala,” he heard Palpatine say. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Anakin’s sluggish brain worked overtime to try to figure that one out. Padmé? She was here? Why? Was Anakin just hearing things? But then he felt a gentle hand on his cheek and smelled familiar perfume, and he rolled over and saw that Padmé was indeed crouching beside him, looking worried and angry. “Padmé?” he mumbled. “What—?”

“Shhh,” she murmured. “Let me handle this.”

“Handle what?”

But she was already straightening up and turning towards Palpatine. Anakin couldn’t see her expression now that she was facing away from him, but judging by her tense posture, she was quite upset. “My Lord, with all due respect,” she said rather disrespectfully, “I cannot allow you to continue treating Lord Amidala this way.”

“You cannot allow it?” Palpatine chuckled. “My dear child, I am the Emperor, and Lord Amidala is my apprentice. What authority have you to dictate what goes on in our training sessions?”

“My authority as his wife,” Padmé snapped.

“Ah, I see. Have you grown to care for him, after all? To care for a Jedi and a traitor to the Empire?”

“Of course not,” she replied coldly; the words and her tone stung Anakin, though he didn’t know why. “It is merely that I would like to conceive an heir sometime in the near future, and the state in which you repeatedly send my husband back to me at night makes accomplishing that rather difficult.”

“Does it?” Palpatine looked amused. “Why not simply take what you want, regardless of what state he’s in?”

Anakin knew the whole thing was a sham, seeing as he and Padmé weren’t even remotely hoping to conceive an heir for the time being, but those words still made his blood run cold. “I _beg_ your pardon?” Padmé said, sounding appalled and outraged.

Palpatine chuckled again. “You are too soft for your own good, my dear.”

“I will be taking Lord Amidala back to our rooms immediately. He will not resume his training until he is ready to do so, and once he does, you will stop treating him so cruelly.” Padmé’s voice brooked no argument, and Anakin was astounded (and more than a little impressed) that she would dare speak to the Emperor like that.

He was also astounded to see that Palpatine didn’t look at all annoyed. “Very well,” he said calmly. “I will give him one month. But I fully expect an heir to be on the way by the time this respite is over.”

Anakin very much didn’t like the sound of that, but Padmé seemed satisfied. She turned back to him and knelt down again. “Can you stand?” she asked gently. Why was she being gentle?

“Yes,” Anakin said, but Padmé helped him to his feet anyway and put his arm around her shoulder, calling Eirtaé to come take his other arm.

“Lean on me,” Padmé told him.

“I’m fine,” he protested, but Padmé ignored him, and as they walked, Anakin had to admit that her warm presence at his side was oddly comforting.

When they reached their rooms, Padmé once again ignored his insistence that he was fine and made him lie down and rest. Anakin was expecting her to leave once he was settled—surely she had important business to attend to?—but she didn’t, instead sitting down on the bed beside him.

“Why’d you have to interfere like that?” Anakin said after a few moments.

Padmé looked at him in disbelief. “He was _torturing_ you, Anakin.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I was walking past on my way out of a meeting and I heard you _screaming._ What was I supposed to do, keep walking and pretend I didn’t hear?”

“Yes, actually. You don’t care about me, remember?” Anakin pointed out, not completely successful at keeping bitterness out of his voice.

He thought he saw a faint pink blush on her cheeks, but she looked as cool and aloof as ever and he figured he must be imagining it. “The point is, he was hurting you, and my instincts insisted I step in to do something about it, so I did,” she said brusquely. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Anakin scowled for a few moments before muttering, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said rather crabbily, standing to go.

“Wait,” Anakin said suddenly.

Padmé stopped and turned back to him. “What?”

“Palpatine expects an heir to be on the way by the end of the month.”

She shrugged. “We’ll just tell him we’ve still been unlucky in conceiving,” she said. “He can’t argue with that.”

“I guess,” Anakin said doubtfully, though as Padmé departed he wondered if it would be as easy to fool Palpatine as she seemed to think. They could probably pull it off for a few more months, maybe a year, but after that point it would certainly look suspect that they _still_ hadn’t conceived. Unless they could somehow get the palace med droids to fudge some tests saying they had fertility problems, but Anakin highly doubted that would be possible to do without Palpatine getting wind of it.

No, they couldn’t keep this up much longer, he realized, stomach churning nervously. Sure, Palpatine wanted his Sith apprentice, but if Anakin kept resisting the Dark Side and being as obstinate in their training as he had been so far, and if Palpatine also found out he was refusing to give Padmé an heir, his usefulness would be at an end and he would almost certainly be killed. Or worse, Palpatine would harm the Lars family to punish Anakin for not doing what he wanted. There was nothing else for it, he and Padmé would have to conceive an heir. Soon.

* * *

Anakin took a deep breath, palms sweating slightly, and knocked on the door to Padmé’s room one night towards the end of his allotted month off. “Yes?” she called from within.

“It’s me. Anakin,” he said awkwardly. “May I come in?”

Silence, but a moment later the door was opening and Sabé was beckoning him inside. Anakin bobbed his head at her in thanks and entered. Padmé was already dressed in a nightgown, and one handmaiden was scrubbing makeup off her face while another was brushing her hair, which had been freed from its constrictive updo.

“Yes?” Padmé repeated, watching him in the mirror rather than turning around to look at him face-to-face.

“Um, I wanted to talk to you,” Anakin said hesitantly, starting to think this was a terrible idea and cursing himself for being such an idiot.

“Go ahead.”

She was clearly waiting for him to continue with what he’d wanted to say, but the presence of the handmaidens was stressing him out. He hadn’t banked on them being there, though in hindsight he realized it was pretty stupid of him not to have realized they would be. “Alone,” Anakin blurted out. “I mean, I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He hoped he didn’t sound rude, and luckily the handmaidens serenely ignored him and continued with their tasks. Padmé didn’t say anything, but she didn’t throw him out of her room either. And once the handmaidens had finished removing her makeup and brushing her hair, she nodded at them and they trooped outside along with the ones who had been turning down the bed.

They shut the door behind them, leaving Anakin utterly alone with his wife and even more nervous than he had been when the handmaidens were still in the room. “Well?” Padmé prompted.

Anakin exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. “I was thinking about what we talked about on Naboo that night. And I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it again,” he added hastily, seeing her frown, “but I was thinking…if you wanted to start trying to conceive an heir, that would be all right with me.”

Padmé just stared at him, and Anakin thought he was going to die of anxiety. “Excuse me?” she said at last.

He gulped. “Well, you need an heir eventually, right?” he said, trying to sound offhand. “So why not now? No time like the present.”

After another agonizingly long moment, she stood and approached him. She was a good head shorter than Anakin, but he couldn’t help but feel small before her. “You’re saying you want to sleep with me?” Padmé said at last.

Feeling his face turn red, Anakin nodded. “Yes,” he mumbled. “If you would like that also.”

“The Emperor _is_ getting suspicious that we’ve been married four months and still haven’t conceived an heir even though we told him we’ve been trying to,” she admitted. “So…very well. I will sleep with you.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, great,” Anakin said awkwardly, hating himself. This was very far from the romantic lead-up to the steamier scenes in the romance holonovels that had been a guilty pleasure of his as a Padawan. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and reached out to rest his flesh hand on her cheek and leaned towards her to kiss her.

To his dismay, Padmé jerked backwards. “Did you mean right this second?” she demanded.

Anakin hastily dropped his hand and stepped back, feeling his flush deepening. “Well, yeah, kinda,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But if it’s not a good time, I’ll just—I’ll just go.”

He quickly turned and crossed the room again, though he’d just reached the door when she said, “Anakin, wait.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Padmé once more. “I’m sorry, you just…caught me off guard,” she said. “Now is a perfectly good time for me, if it is for you as well.”

“Oh,” said Anakin, relieved and nervous in equal measure. “Yeah, it’s—it’s a good time.”

She nodded resolutely. “I’ll tell the handmaidens not to disturb us,” she said. “Wait here.”

Padmé promptly departed, and Anakin didn’t know what to do with himself in the meantime. The thought of going to sit on the bed made him even more nervous, so he ended up moving to stand uneasily in the middle of the room.

She returned only a minute or two later and came over towards him. They stood there and stared at each other for a second, and Anakin wondered if he should say something, if she was expecting him to make the first move, but then Padmé stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his own.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Anakin registered in surprise that this was the first time he’d kissed his own wife since their wedding day, but most of his attention was focused on the startling softness of the lips that spoke such sharp words, the flowery scent of the perfume that still clung to her from earlier in the day, the warmth of the body of the woman he’d come to think of as an ice queen.

He saw that her eyes were closed and he hastily shut his too, not actually having any idea what he was doing. This was his first kiss—well, second, if you counted the chaste kiss at their wedding. Anakin was suddenly worried about his lack of experience, something he hadn’t really thought to worry about until then. During his time at the Temple, he’d known that some of the Padawans messed around with each other, but Anakin himself had never so much as kissed anyone, too worried about accidentally forming an attachment. Even as a teenager, he’d known he had a much harder time avoiding attachments than all the other Jedi.

Would Padmé be able to tell that he’d never done this before? Would she mind? What if he was a bad lover to her? Or what if she laughed at him for being so inexperienced? What if she expected him to do something that hadn’t been covered in the HoloNet articles he’d sheepishly read to prepare himself over the past few days? Anakin prayed she wouldn’t want to do anything too far beyond the basics. But even the basics suddenly seemed intimidating; reading about it and actually doing it were two very different things. What if he messed up?

Padmé drew back and observed him, both her hands resting on his chest now. “Are you afraid?” she said carefully after a moment.

Anakin turned a violent shade of red. “Of course I’m not _afraid,”_ he said, affronted.

“You’re trembling,” she pointed out.

Indeed, he was, and he hurriedly did his best to stop it. “I’m just…cold,” Anakin lied.

“Cold,” Padmé repeated, looking utterly unconvinced.

“Yeah. I’m from a desert planet, you know.”

She pursed her lips, though when she spoke her tone was surprisingly gentle and almost… _kind._ “If you’re not ready to do this tonight—”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Anakin said in annoyance. “I’ve just never done this before, all right?”

He cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Padmé’s lips parted in surprise, and she gazed at him for a moment before repeating, “You’ve never done this before? You’ve never slept with anyone?”

“No,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks staining red yet again.

“Do you…know what to do?” Padmé asked, though she sounded genuinely unsure rather than mocking.

“Of course I know what to do,” Anakin snapped. “I’m inexperienced, not ignorant.”

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said. “I just wasn’t sure—well, I know the Jedi forbade attachments and marriage. I wasn’t sure how much instruction you would have received about this sort of thing.”

“No _formal_ instruction, but I would’ve had to have been living under a rock to not have figured it out on my own,” said Anakin, still with an edge to his voice. “Besides, _attachments_ are forbidden, but sex isn’t. Jedi can have sex if they want.”

“But you didn’t want to?”

“No. I didn’t like the idea of being that intimate with someone while being unable to get attached to them,” Anakin said, wondering why he was elaborating. It was none of her business. “I’d always thought if I had sex, I’d want it to be with someone I loved and trusted.”

“And now?” she said, leaving it unsaid that she was clearly not someone he loved and trusted.

“Now I don’t have a choice, do I? I’m going to have to have sex with you for the rest of my life, so I might as well get used to it.”

The words came out harsher than Anakin had intended, but her inquiry into his sexual past (or lack thereof) was making him edgy and defensive. Padmé let her expressionless façade drop for only a split second before putting it back up, but the hurt on her face that Anakin saw in that one split second cut him to the core.

“I see,” she said calmly. “Well, I’m sorry that having sex with me is such a chore for you. And that you feel you don’t have a choice, because actually you do. You can choose to wait until a later date to start ‘getting used to it.’ In fact, I think that would be for the best. If you would excuse me, I’m tired and would like to go to bed.”

Anakin sighed, feeling guilty for hurting her feelings and confused about why he cared enough to feel guilty or why _she_ cared enough for her feelings to be hurt. “Padmé, I’m—”

“Goodnight, Anakin,” Padmé said firmly.

At a loss for anything else to do, Anakin obediently turned around and slunk out of the room. He ignored the handmaidens’ curious looks as he appeared back out in the sitting room. “Lord Amidala, is there anything you require?”

“No,” he said shortly, and he headed towards his own bedroom on the complete other side of the extensive suite.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you dive into this chapter, please check out this gorgeous fanart by stranestelle (strrne on Tumblr) of some scenes from earlier chapters!! http://strrne.tumblr.com/post/177099054678/canon-leads-to-heartbreak-heartbreak-leads-to

The next few days were horrendously uncomfortable. Anakin’s lessons had recently resumed—Palpatine was going _slightly_ easier on him, though not much—and that’s where he spent most of his time, and Padmé suddenly was too busy to have dinner with him every night, but even in the brief moments when they ran into each other, the awkwardness was palpable.

One evening, Sabé poked her head into the dining room while he was waiting for the handmaidens to serve dinner. “Lady Amidala will be joining you shortly, My Lord,” she said. “She’s just changing into her dinner clothes.”

For a moment Anakin was surprised that Padmé would be deigning to spend time with him that evening, and he’d just moved on from being surprised to wondering why she always had to go through about seven different outfits every day when the door slid open again and Padmé entered. Anakin glanced over and nearly choked on his own breath, his mouth falling open.

She was wearing a tight black dress, made of some leathery-looking material, that hugged her body all the way down until the skirt flared out a little just above her ankles. Her hair was cascading down her back in a loose braid, much different than the tightly-coiffed styles she usually wore, and a silver circlet adorned her forehead. She had on a pair of long black gloves that covered most of her arms, though the gown itself was sleeveless and her shoulders and upper chest were completely bare. To top it all off, she had some sort of black choker around her neck that trailed down nearly to her feet, resting comfortably in the middle of her chest and drawing even more attention to her cleavage, which the dress’s corset already accentuated.

“Good evening,” Padmé said pleasantly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Anakin managed to close his mouth as she walked over towards him. “E-evening,” he stuttered after a second. To his confusion, rather than sitting in the chair opposite him, she moved around to his side of the table until she was standing right beside him. As Anakin watched in utter bewilderment, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek, effectively sticking her chest right in his face. Anakin swallowed and tried to look elsewhere, the front of his pants feeling uncomfortably tight.

Then Padmé actually did sit down in her own chair, and the handmaidens brought out the meal a moment later. Apparently forgetting that she was angry at him, Padmé chatted on throughout dinner about whatever she’d been dealing with in the Senate that day; Anakin was rather too distracted to really listen. He’d never seen her wear anything like this, not even in the privacy of their apartments or when they’d gone to Naboo on their honeymoon. She usually favored stately Senate gowns that covered up most of her body, not…whatever _this_ was.

She was doing this on purpose, she had to be, Anakin thought as she made a show of brushing nonexistent crumbs off her chest. But why? _She_ was the one who’d kicked him out of her room before they could have sex, so why was she now trying to seduce him? It didn’t make any sense.

At the end of the meal, Padmé stood up from the table and Anakin followed suit. “I had a lovely meal,” she said. “And I managed to finish all my work for today, so I have the rest of the night free.”

Was she implying what Anakin thought she was implying? “Oh,” he said intelligently. “Um…”

Padmé approached him and without warning, pulled him in for a heated kiss. Anakin made a surprised noise into her mouth, which quickly turned into a whimper as she grabbed his waist and pulled him flush against her. She moved her hands from his waist to his ass and squeezed it, then ground herself against him a few times. But then, just as Anakin felt himself rapidly hardening, she stopped kissing him and stepped away all together.

“But I’m awfully tired,” Padmé said, heaving a mournful sigh. “I think I’ll use my free night to catch up on some sleep. Goodnight, Anakin.”

“Wha…?”

She turned around and walked out before Anakin could even get his unformed question out, swaying her hips much more than she usually did when she walked. Anakin goggled soundlessly after her for a few seconds, then sighed, flopped back into his chair, and poured himself another glass of cold water. He was suddenly very thirsty.

Padmé continued the performance for the next three nights at dinner, with different but equally revealing outfits each time, and finally Anakin thought he’d figured out what she was up to. She was punishing him for insulting her the other night, when he’d said he was only going to have sex with her because he didn’t have a choice. Something he was now sorely regretting, as he didn’t think he’d ever been more aroused in his entire life as he had been the past few nights, and his own hands weren’t cutting it anymore.

Eventually, Anakin decided to just swallow his pride and apologize. Worst case scenario, she’d reject his apology and he’d feel a little stupid, and best case scenario, she would stop tormenting him and actually sleep with him. It was definitely worth the risk.

So that night after dinner, he knocked on her bedroom door and was let in by the handmaidens, who were on their way out. “Anakin,” Padmé said. She was already wearing a nightgown, her long curly hair floating loose about her shoulders. “I was just about to get in bed—”

“Padmé, I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” Anakin interrupted. “I was just—I was embarrassed that I was so inexperienced and you’ve probably been with dozens of lovers. So I got defensive and annoyed and I snapped at you, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Not _dozens_ of lovers, just two,” Padmé said dryly.

“Oh,” said Anakin, surprised. He’d assumed the heir to the Galactic Empire could’ve slept with as many beings in the galaxy as she wanted. “Who?”

He was even more surprised when she actually deigned to answer him. “A Nabooian artist named Palo when I was eighteen and Senator Rush Clovis a few years ago.”

Anakin knew nothing about a random artist named Palo, but he did vaguely know who Clovis was, and he was suddenly struck with a strange sort of jealousy. “Rush Clovis,” he repeated. “How long were you together?”

“Oh, a year or two,” Padmé said, looking amused. “But there’s no need to be jealous, Anakin. It’s _you_ I married, isn’t it?”

“I’m not jealous,” Anakin muttered, scowling. “Anyway, do you forgive me or not?”

“What a graceful apology.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. Truly,” he said. “Now can you please stop torturing me?”

“Torturing you? Whatever do you mean?” she said innocently, though there was a smirk playing about her lips.

“You know exactly what I mean. Wearing those—those _seductress_ outfits to dinner the past few nights—”

“Seductress outfits? Why, those are just some old dinner gowns I haven’t worn in a while.”

“—purposely trying to turn me on, and then just leaving,” Anakin complained. “It’s _cruel.”_

Padmé was smirking even wider now. “So, you’re upset that I leave dinner before having sex with you?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you had no desire to have sex with me, and you were only going to agree to do it because you didn’t have a choice.”

“You’re really making me work for this, aren’t you?” Anakin said under his breath. “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it. I want to have sex with you because I find you attractive. There, happy?”

“Oh, I suppose that will do.” Padmé crossed the room to stand in front of him, and Anakin leaned down to kiss her, but she held up her hand to stop him. “But what about what you said that night, that you only would want to sleep with someone you loved and trusted?” she asked.

Anakin blinked. Was she…showing concern for him? “I—I do trust you,” he admitted, surprising even himself. “Or, I trust you enough to have sex with, anyway. Still not convinced you won’t stab me while I’m sleeping.”

In all honesty he wasn’t _entirely_ joking about that, but he infused a bit of humor into his tone and was inordinately pleased when it made Padmé smile. “We’ll have to see how good of a lover you are before I make any decisions about murdering you,” she said, so seriously that it took Anakin a long moment to realize she was making a joke too. He laughed in delighted surprise; he didn’t think he’d ever heard her make a joke before. And the smile that next appeared on her face was not the cool politician’s smirk he was so used to, but a real, genuine smile that he’d only ever seen while they were visiting her family.

“I’m sorry too,” Padmé said next. “For being nosy and embarrassing you. Whether or not you’ve slept with anyone is none of my business.”

“Well, it kind of is, seeing as now you’ll have to teach me everything,” Anakin pointed out.

She smiled again. “Actually, that sounds like it’ll be an enjoyable task. Shall we get started?”

“Now?” he said, taken aback. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I’m not actually tired yet, it’s still early,” Padmé said. “Besides, it wasn’t just you I was torturing these past few nights. Watching you squirming in your seat with your face all red got _me_ rather worked up too.”

Anakin blushed, though he also felt a little thrill at the thought that Padmé found him just as attractive as he found her, and she laughed before finally leaning up and kissing him.

They did no more than kiss for a long time, Padmé clearly wanting to ease them into things and wait until Anakin was completely comfortable before going further. But at last she reached for his tunic and pulled it off over his head, and Anakin tried not to feel self-conscious as she gazed appreciatively at his bare torso.

After a minute he realized he should probably start undressing her too. Relieved that she was wearing a simple nightgown rather than one of her Senate gowns that would take him half an hour to work out how to undo, Anakin slowly pushed the nightgown down her shoulders, swallowing thickly when her breasts were exposed. The nightgown pooled at Padmé’s feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of panties.

Anakin stared at her in awe, too transfixed by her (nearly) naked body to notice that she was blushing a little and looked almost _shy._ “Wow,” he breathed, immediately feeling like an idiot when Padmé laughed, but feeling better again a second later as he registered that it was a gentle laugh, not a derisive one.

“I’m guessing I’m the first naked woman you’ve seen?” she said lightly. He nodded, still wide-eyed, and she chuckled again. “I’m glad. Now you won’t have anyone to compare me to.”

“I don’t think anyone could compare to you anyway,” Anakin said frankly. He wasn’t purposefully trying to compliment her, though he was still pleased when she turned pink again and smiled at him. It was just a fact that Padmé Amidala was one of the most beautiful beings in the galaxy. Even when he still hated her Anakin had thought she was beautiful.

“Well, neither of the men I’ve been with were Jedi, so I can already tell you’re going to have the advantage,” Padmé said, raking her eyes over his stomach muscles so slowly that Anakin felt like he was burning under her gaze.

She pulled him in for another kiss, and Anakin gasped when she started rubbing herself against him. All the blood in his body rushed to his rapidly growing erection, and Padmé drew away to smirk at him when she felt it. Then she resumed kissing him once more and dropped a hand to start stroking him through his pants, which made Anakin moan loudly. He started shamelessly rutting into her hand, feeling an orgasm swiftly building.

“Please,” he whimpered, needing her to stop before he embarrassed himself by coming in his pants like a teenager. “Please.”

To his combined relief and frustration, she moved away from him and quickly shoved his pants down, letting out a pleased hum when she saw his hard cock. Anakin was too far gone to bother being self-conscious, though not far gone enough to not be embarrassed when Padmé jokingly said, “Wow.”

He groaned. “Can we just forget I said that?”

“No, it was sweet,” she insisted.

Anakin was about to explain to her that “sweet” wasn’t the kind of vibe he wanted to be going for in this context, but then she leaned in and kissed him on the lips again and took him in her hand, and all conscious thought fled from his brain. He swore and bucked his hips, and Padmé grinned and let go again, making him whine in frustration.

She pushed him to lie down on the bed and knelt over him, then started trailing kisses down his body, paying special attention to his neck, nipples, and hips. “Padmé, _please,”_ Anakin whined as she sucked a mark into his hip.

“I suppose I might as well let you take the edge off,” she decided, and then she was taking him in her mouth and Anakin was seeing stars.

It all happened very fast—Padmé sucked a few times and then Anakin was giving a strangled gasp and spilling down her throat, overwhelmed by the intensity of his first orgasm given to him by another person. He lay there with his eyes closed for a while, breathing heavily, and didn’t open them until he felt a pair of lips on his own.

“How was that?” Padmé asked after a few minutes of lazy kissing, and she laughed when Anakin just groaned in reply.

She kissed him one last time before saying, “Now, how about I teach you how to get me off?”

“Okay.”

Padmé rolled them over so that she was on her back and Anakin was kneeling over her, and remembering how she’d kissed him earlier, he started kissing his way down her body. He lingered a long time at her breasts, kneading them in his flesh hand and pinching her nipples and even tentatively sucking on them, which made her moan happily.

“Anakin,” Padmé said finally, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I’d really like to get off sometime in the next century, please.”

“Right. Sorry,” Anakin said, embarrassed, though she just chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair in a gesture that was dangerously close to being affectionate. He forced himself to abandon her breasts and continued on his journey more quickly, trying to both please her and satisfy his own curiosity.

At last he reached his intended destination and eagerly pulled her panties off, then proceeded to observe her with interest and no small amount of arousal. Eventually Padmé started squirming, and Anakin hastily reached out to touch her, a thrill running through him as he felt how wet she was. He knew generally where to touch but wasn’t entirely sure of himself, so he was relieved when Padmé directed him to her clit and occasionally gave instructions without judgment or condescension.

Up until this point, Anakin had been using only his flesh hand while his cybernetic one hung uselessly by his side. And Padmé noticed. “Use both hands,” she said.

Anakin glanced down at his right hand uncertainly. “It won’t feel good for you,” he said.

“Of course it will. Go on, try it.”

Tentatively, Anakin brought his cybernetic hand up to start touching her too, and Padmé gasped at the sudden coldness of the touch. “Sorry,” he said, quickly pulling it away.

But Padmé grabbed his hand and tugged it closer again, firmly putting it back on her body. “Honestly, Anakin, it feels good,” she said. “Keep going.”

She seemed sincere enough, so Anakin did as she asked, gradually growing more and more comfortable with using his cybernetic hand. Keeping that one on her clit, Anakin started tracing circles around her entrance with his flesh hand, and then he slowly pushed his index finger inside her. Her hand tightened its grip on his hair and he glanced nervously up at her. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” Anakin wiggled his finger around a bit until Padmé gave a sharp gasp and said, “Yes, right there, Anakin.”

“Here?” He brushed over the spot again, and she moaned.

“Yes. Force, that feels amazing.”

Anakin doubled his efforts, adding a second finger moments later as his cybernetic hand continued to rub her clit in a steady rhythm. Padmé’s skin was flushed and sweaty and she was sighing and cursing in languages Anakin didn’t even recognize. “Anakin,” she panted. “Oh, Anakin…”

Anakin felt himself already getting hard again, and he rubbed himself against the sheets just a bit and sighed at the quick moment of relief before returning his attention to Padmé. Only moments later, she let out an especially loud moan and Anakin felt her clenching and unclenching around his fingers. Pride, delight, and arousal swept through him as he realized he’d just made her come.

He continued to stroke her through it, and then Padmé was tugging him back up so she could kiss him. She reached down between them and once more wrapped her hand around his cock, and Anakin whimpered desperately into her mouth. “Padmé, please, I—I want—”

“I want you inside me,” Padmé cut him off, gazing up at him with a more open expression than he had ever seen from her.

“Yes,” Anakin said at once, stomach squirming in excitement. “Please, yes, Padmé—”

She spread her legs to allow him better access, and Anakin grabbed her hips and lifted them up slightly. “Now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Padmé said breathlessly. “Now.”

Anakin slowly, gently pushed inside her, and he groaned loudly as tight, wet heat enveloped him, sending sensation pulsing throughout his body. “Force,” he gasped. “Force, you feel so good.”

“Mmmm, Anakin,” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around him and urging him deeper.

Once they’d both adjusted, Anakin started thrusting, feeling pleasure building up more and more in his core until it was almost unbearable. He’d hoped he’d last longer this time since he’d already come once, but apparently that was not to be. It was only minutes before Anakin was gasping raggedly as he came, spilling himself inside Padmé and shuddering from head to toe.

After it was over and his brain started to clear, he realized in embarrassment that the whole thing had happened rather quickly. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What for?” asked Padmé, absently playing with her clit and gazing up at him with undisguised lust.

“For not lasting very long.”

She chuckled, though not unkindly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said reassuringly. “We can work on endurance later.”

Anakin slipped out of her and collapsed onto the bed beside her, limbs feeling like jelly. It was a couple minutes before he realized that Padmé was letting out a string of quiet little gasps, and he opened his eyes to see her desperately rubbing her clit to push herself towards climax. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Anakin said, feeling guilty. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t—”

But he stumbled to a halt as Padmé sighed in pleasure and arched off the bed for a second before falling onto it once more. She spent a moment catching her breath before turning to look at him and asking, “What were you saying?”

“I was saying I’m sorry I didn’t make you come when I was inside you,” Anakin said. Though he was less sorry now that he’d gotten to watch her get herself off instead.

Padmé smiled at him. “That’s all right. I didn’t expect you to on your first time. We’ll get better with practice.”

Personally Anakin couldn’t imagine how it could be any better than the incredible things she’d just done to him, but nevertheless a thrill ran through him at the thought that Padmé wanted to do this again and didn’t think he was a horrible lover.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.

She chuckled. “I wanted you to enjoy yourself so that you’d want to have sex with me again later,” she joked, and Anakin grinned too.

But as the minutes ticked by, the warm post-sex glow started to wear off and Anakin began feeling uneasy again. Though they’d just spent an enjoyable night together, the fact was, he and Padmé generally didn’t get along very well. What was going to happen to them now? Would starting a sexual relationship change things between them, or would they continue ignoring each other and squabbling most of the time, with only a couple hours of harmony between them in the bedroom every so often?

Anakin glanced uncertainly at Padmé, wondering if she was going to snap back to her businesslike politician’s personality and kick him out of her bed. But she just lay there with her eyes closed, looking as content as Anakin had ever seen her. He thought he should probably go back to his own room, but he was awfully exhausted and didn’t think he had the strength to get out of bed, let alone walk all the way over to his own suite. He felt his eyes growing heavy, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up being a lot less Steamy and a lot more Tender than I had originally anticipated would be appropriate for a darkside AU......hope you enjoyed it anyway haha


	9. Chapter 9

The next thing he knew, Anakin was blinking his eyes open as the sound of several voices wove its way into his consciousness. He was still in Padmé’s bedroom, but it was light now and he saw her handmaidens helping her into an elaborate Senate gown and doing her hair. He realized he must have fallen asleep in her bed.

He also realized he was still completely naked, which was a predicament, as the room was now filled with half a dozen other people who weren’t his wife. Anakin considered faking sleep until they all left, but he knew how long it could potentially take Padmé to get ready for the day, so instead he sat up in bed, careful to keep his lower half covered with the blankets, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

Padmé turned around to look at him. “Oh, you’re finally up,” she said, and to his relief she tossed him the pair of pants he’d left on the floor the night before.

“Morning,” Anakin mumbled, doing his best to slip the pants on under the sheets.

He climbed out of bed and hastily collected the rest of his clothes off the floor, blushing furiously and wondering how Padmé was so unfazed by the handmaidens knowing what they’d been up to the night before. To their credit, none of the handmaidens were acting like there was anything out of the ordinary happening.

Anakin was unsure how he should make his exit. “Uh, I’m going to go shower,” he announced.

“All right. I’ll be gone by the time you’re done, so have a good day,” said Padmé. “I think I should be back in time for dinner tonight.”

Anakin nodded, and then some wild impulse made him dart over and kiss her on the cheek before hastily leaving the room, not daring to look back and see her reaction. This was exactly why he shouldn’t be going around having sex with people, he was already making things weird instead of staying casual about it.

Anakin was still in a state of confusion about where his and Padmé’s relationship stood, but that didn’t outweigh the exhilaration of the previous night and he was in such a good mood that his training session with Palpatine was easier to put up with than usual. But when Padmé returned that evening, so did his nerves.

She greeted him pleasantly and they sat down to dinner, alone together for the first time since the night before. “How was your day?” Padmé asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Good. I made some good progress with the Senate today.”

“That’s good.”

Then they ate in silence for a while. At last Anakin said, “So, about last night…”

Padmé picked up her glass and looked quizzically at him. “What about it?” she said, taking a sip of wine.

Anakin realized he didn’t actually have any idea of what to say. “Um…I mean…well, we never got to…really talk about it,” he said lamely.

Padmé looked puzzled. “What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know, I just thought—look, I know you’re pretty experienced but it was my first time, um, doing that and I guess I just wondered—I don’t know, forget it,” Anakin stammered, feeling like his face was on fire. “You’re right, there’s nothing to talk about.”

But her expression had softened. “If you’re wondering if I enjoyed myself, I did,” she said. “Very much so. Did you?”

Anakin exhaled softly, suddenly soothed. “Yeah,” he said. “So…I wasn’t terrible?”

Padmé looked amused. “Not at all,” she said. “And I’m sure you’re only going to get better with practice.”

“About that…” Anakin blushed again, but then ventured, “Could we maybe practice more tonight?”

Her smile turned sly. “Of course. We’ve just barely scratched the surface of all the things we can do together.”

Spending more time with Padmé had never looked so appealing.

* * *

Weeks passed, and then months. Anakin and Padmé had arrived at a sort of stalemate. She wasn’t behaving so coldly around him anymore, and he was no longer being as contrary and difficult as he had when he’d first arrived. Not with her, anyway; he was still stubbornly continuing to resist Palpatine’s attempts to turn him to the Dark Side, much to Palpatine’s frustration.

Anakin knew he was doing the right thing in his Sith lessons, but in all other aspects of his life he was starting to feel confused and guilty. The Rebellion was out there fighting a losing battle every day while Anakin lived in comfort in the imperial palace and happily had sex with the imperial heir. Maybe they’d doubted the reasons behind his marriage at first, but by now they must certainly be convinced he was a traitor. Some days Anakin thought he was a traitor too.

But it wasn’t like he was actually doing anything to help the Empire, he reminded himself. He just wasn’t actively fighting against it. _Doing nothing is just as bad as doing the wrong thing,_ a little voice whispered in the back of his head which he did his best to ignore. After all, Owen and Beru were still in danger of being killed by the Stormtroopers watching their moisture farm if Anakin acted out. His hands were still tied. What _could_ he do but nothing? He was just trying to make the best of an impossible situation.

Though as time passed, it was easier and easier to forget that he was here against his will. The truth was, Anakin _liked_ being married to Padmé. He liked living in luxury for the first time in his life, he liked seeing new planets on diplomatic visits with her, he liked sleeping with her, and he was even starting to like spending time with her when sex wasn’t involved at all. The only thing he didn’t like about his new life was his training sessions with Palpatine, and those only took up a small part of his day and didn’t even happen every day either.

In the back of his mind Anakin knew this couldn’t last forever, knew he was being lulled into a false sense of security. But letting himself be, if not happy, at least _content,_ was so much easier than trying to maintain his anger at the Empire.

“Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?” Palpatine asked him at the end of their training session one day.

Anakin wasn’t really in the mood for storytelling, but it was better than getting fried with Force lightning, so he decided to humor him. “No,” he said.

“I thought not. It’s not a story the Jedi would tell you. It’s a Sith legend,” Palpatine replied. “Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life. He had such a knowledge of the Dark Side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying.”

Anakin paused, his interest caught despite himself as, unbidden, the memory of Shmi dying in his arms returned to him yet again. “He could actually save people from death?” he said slowly.

“The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.”

“What happened to him?”

“He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power. Which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep.” Palpatine smiled slightly, telling Anakin exactly who the apprentice had been. “Ironic,” he continued. “He could save others from death, but not himself.”

Anakin frowned at him for a moment, unsure whether to believe him. What if this was just yet another one of Palpatine’s attempts to use his guilt over Shmi’s death to push him to the Dark Side? In all Anakin’s years at the Jedi Temple, he had never heard of such a thing, the ability to save people from death…but if it was a Dark Side power as Palpatine said, it made sense that the Jedi would never have told him of it, or even known about it themselves. And the thought of being able to save someone from death, of never having to watch another loved one die in his arms as he was powerless to save them…

“Is it possible to learn this power?” Anakin asked despite himself.

Another sly smile grew on Palpatine’s face. “Not from a Jedi.”

“But I thought Force healing was a Light Side power.”

“Well, you see, my young apprentice, this isn’t merely Force healing. It requires a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?”

“One that no Jedi would ever make.” Palpatine looked him square in the eye. “In order to give life to someone, you must take that life from someone else. The Force must be balanced. A life for a life.”

Chills went down Anakin’s spine. Stealing the life away from an innocent bystander to give it to someone you loved…no wonder this was a Dark Side power. He could hardly fathom the selfishness required to make that decision.

And yet, as he walked back to his and Padmé’s rooms lost in thought, he couldn’t help thinking back to the moment of Shmi’s death and remembering the overwhelming feeling that he would do anything in the galaxy, anything at all, to keep her with him for even a minute longer. Force, he had killed the entire tribe of Tusken Raiders in his rage over her death, would he really have refused to steal the life from just one of them to give to Shmi if he could have?

When he arrived, Anakin was surprised to see Padmé at home even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “Did the Senate finish early?” he asked, helping himself to some lunch and trying to push away all thoughts of death and the Dark Side and Darth Plagueis.

“No, but I was ill and had to leave,” she replied.

Anakin was surprised; he didn’t think he’d ever seen her get sick before. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. In fact, I received good news at the medbay,” Padmé said. “I’m pregnant.”

She spoke so matter-of-factly that it took Anakin a second to register what she’d said. “W-what?” he said, accidentally dropping his fork. “You’re—you’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Padmé said. “I was just on my way to inform the Emperor. I’m sure he’ll be most pleased. The palace will announce it in a few months’ time once I’m further along.”

Anakin could only stare at her, trying to absorb the information. She was pregnant. With his child. In the back of his mind he’d known the whole purpose of them sleeping together over the past several months was to get Padmé pregnant, but truth be told he’d been enjoying himself so much that he’d almost forgotten the original intent.

He was going to be a father. Something he’d always thought would be denied him, given the Jedi rules about attachments. But now it was happening. Anakin thought of how often he used to sneak off to visit the crèche in the Jedi Temple, how much he’d loved playing with the younglings of all different species…

Younglings who had been slaughtered in the Jedi purge ordered by Padmé’s people, Anakin realized with a cold, sick feeling in his gut. Was she really the sort of woman he wanted to be the mother of his child? She was a monster. But—but that was Lady Amidala, wasn’t it? Not Padmé. Anakin had seen glimpses of the real Padmé, and she wasn’t a monster. Besides, Palpatine had been the one behind the Jedi purge, not Padmé. But was it really possible to separate Padmé from Palpatine? Or Padmé from Lady Amidala?

At last Anakin realized that she was looking at him, clearly expecting a response. “That’s…that’s wonderful,” he managed. “Um, excuse me.”

And he abandoned her and his lunch entirely and hurried off to his rooms to think in private. Artoo beeped at him in concern. “I’m fine, buddy,” Anakin lied. “Hey, why don’t you go visit your old friends down at the hangar? It’s been a while since you’ve seen them.” He needed to be alone right now, and even Artoo’s presence was too much.

Artoo chirped at him rather suspiciously, clearly seeing right through him, but nevertheless he trundled away.

Anakin paced up and down his bedroom, mind whirling. He couldn’t deny that some part of him was happy at the prospect of being a father. It was something he’d always dreamed of but assumed was impossible. But he’d never wanted it to happen like _this._ Did he and Padmé even like each other? Sure, they more or less got along these days, but having a baby with someone he “got along with” wasn’t exactly the best scenario in Anakin’s opinion. Not to mention that when push came to shove they were still on opposite sides of a civil war.

In all his time on Coruscant, Anakin had been thinking of Padmé’s future heir as being just that: her heir. Not his child, his own flesh and blood. That was something that hadn’t quite sunk in until now. And he realized that suddenly…his current situation felt very _permanent._

Since he’d first arrived, Anakin had for some reason had the vague thought that surely this would be temporary, that eventually he’d figure out a way to get out of here and go join the Rebellion without bringing harm to Owen and Beru. But now there was a child involved. _His_ child. He’d only known of its existence for ten minutes, but already Anakin knew there was no way he’d ever leave this planet without it. And seeing as there was no way Padmé would let him take their child away from her, that meant Anakin was stuck here. Forever.

As he often did when confronted with a problem, Anakin found himself wondering what Obi-Wan would do. But that was easy to answer. Obi-Wan would never have cooperated in the first place, maybe would even have let Owen and Beru die rather than allow himself to join the Empire. Because that was what a good Jedi should do, sacrifice themselves _and_ other people for a greater cause. That was why they preached no attachments. That was why Anakin had never been a good Jedi.

Anakin spent the rest of the day shut up in his room. Padmé didn’t try to find him or talk to him, either because she sensed he wanted to be alone or because she simply hadn’t noticed he was upset about the news. Well, _was_ he upset? Anakin wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sure he was upset either. He just didn’t know how to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the end of the chapter feels a lil abrupt, this one and the next were originally one super long chapter that I split into two


	10. Chapter 10

That evening, Anakin came out of his room for dinner with Padmé. They didn’t say much as they ate. Anakin kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t look any different, but something about her felt a little different in the Force. If he concentrated hard enough, Anakin could just barely make out the faint presence of another tiny developing life form. He gasped a little when he finally picked up on it, a sense of wonder overwhelming him. There really was a baby in there. His baby.

“What?” Padmé asked.

Anakin cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Nothing, I just—um, I sensed the baby in the Force,” he mumbled.

When he finally looked up, he saw that Padmé was resting a hand on her stomach and smiling down at it, and something about the tenderness in her face made a lump form in his throat. “I was thinking we could convert one of our sitting rooms into a nursery,” she said. “I’ve always thought we had more sitting rooms than we needed.”

“You’re telling me,” Anakin said dryly. “That sounds fine.”

“And that way the baby would live right here in our rooms and be close to us.”

“Okay.”

“Although I’m not sure what we’ll do once they have a brother or sister,” Padmé said thoughtfully. “It might be too crowded in here…”

Anakin nearly choked on his food. “You—you want more children after this?” he spluttered.

“Oh—I, um—” Padmé suddenly looked very embarrassed. “I just thought—well, I’d always imagined myself having two or three children, but I didn’t mean—that is, I understand if you don’t want—um, never mind, never mind. I certainly don’t expect you to provide me with any more children than this one.”

“Oh. So now that you have your Force-sensitive heir, you’re going to get rid of me and find someone else that you actually want to have children with,” Anakin said, strangely hurt.

“What? I didn’t mean that at all,” Padmé said quickly. “I only meant—no, forget it. Let’s just focus on _this_ baby.” She patted her stomach again.

“Fine,” Anakin muttered. The rest of dinner passed in uncomfortable silence.

Anakin tossed and turned all night, still trying to wrap his mind around the news that he was going to be a father, to have a child with someone he had previously considered one of the most evil beings in the galaxy, and now…didn’t really know _what_ to think of.

_“Daddy!”_

_Two little toddlers were hurtling across the room and into his arms. Anakin laughed and picked them up, one under each arm, twirling them around and making them shriek with laughter. “How are my little angels today?” he asked, kissing them each on the forehead._

_“Good,” chirped the girl. She was the spitting image of Padmé, but Anakin could swear he saw something of himself in her too._

_“I missed you, Daddy,” the boy said earnestly, blinking up at him with blue eyes. He looked like Anakin, with Padmé’s smile._

_“Missed me? I was only gone a few hours,” Anakin said, chuckling._

_“Why can’t_ we _come train with Uncle Obi and Auntie ’Soka?” the girl asked, pouting._

_“Because you’re too little.” Anakin kissed her again. “I’ll bring you when you’re old enough.”_

_“Anakin, you’re home.”_

_Anakin looked up and saw Padmé approaching, still in her Senate gown with her hair up. She kissed him on the cheek, smiling, and Anakin smiled back and turned his head slightly to kiss her deeply on the lips instead._

_“Ew!” the toddlers shrieked in unison, and Anakin and Padmé laughed, and then Anakin started tickling the children until they were laughing too, and all four of them were smiling and laughing together, a happy little family—_

Anakin woke up drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for breath. What the _kriff_ was that? He felt his heart pounding, and he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It was just a dream, probably set off by the revelation of Padmé’s pregnancy. He _had_ been thinking about it right before he’d fallen asleep.

But…it had felt so _real._ With a creeping sense of foreboding, Anakin remembered the prophetic Force-brought dreams he’d had about his mother’s death. This dream…this dream had felt exactly like those ones, he realized in shock. And _those_ ones had come true. Did that mean—?

No, surely not. Maybe they mostly got along now, and maybe they would continue to do so in the future, but there was no way he and Padmé would ever have the sort of relationship they’d had in the dream. The easy, comfortable warmth between a husband and wife who genuinely loved and trusted each other.

Besides, there had been two children in the dream, and Padmé had made it quite clear that were she to have a second child, it wouldn’t be with Anakin. And they’d looked about the same age, so maybe they’d been twins, and Padmé was only having one baby, not twins. The med droids would have told her if there were two of them in there. Not to mention that Anakin was pretty sure they’d mentioned something about Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in the dream, and he couldn’t think of anything more impossible than him continuing to see his Jedi friends while still married to the imperial heir.

Feeling somewhat soothed, Anakin lay down once more and tried to go back to sleep. But he dozed only fitfully until the morning came.

Anakin did his best to forget about the dream. Because it was just that: a dream taunting him about the loving family he’d never have, not some sort of premonition or Force vision. But he needed to be distracted, so several days later, Anakin went to Padmé’s bedroom after dinner.

“Anakin,” she said, setting her holonovel aside. “What is it?”

“Um, I just thought…well, since you got done early with work today and you have the night off,” he began rather nervously, “I thought maybe we could…”

He trailed off, but Padmé caught his meaning. “Oh.” She looked surprised. “I actually was thinking, we don’t need to keep sleeping together,” she said. “I mean, I’m pregnant now, which is what we wanted in the first place, so…”

“Right, of course,” Anakin said. “Sorry, never mind.”

He quickly hurried out of the room, embarrassed. Of course Padmé only saw him as a means to an end, a tool to give her a Force-sensitive child. She was the imperial heir, why had he thought she actually enjoyed sleeping with someone as inexperienced as him when she could have anyone in the galaxy?

A few weeks later, Anakin was reaching out to feel the baby in the Force as he’d started becoming accustomed to doing, and he stopped, frowning, when he felt something out of the ordinary. Without thinking twice about it, he crossed the room towards where Padmé was sitting and placed his hand on her stomach

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing?”

Anakin ignored her and concentrated harder, and then he gasped and pulled his hand away. No, surely it couldn’t be…

“What is it?” Padmé looked worried. “Is something wrong with the baby? Can you sense something?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, it’s just—” Anakin finally made himself look at her. “I think you’re having twins.”

Twins. Just like in his dream.

“Twins?” Padmé repeated, shocked. She rested a hand on her stomach almost unconsciously. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know, I think so.”

There was a flurry of activity as Padmé asked the handmaidens to call a med droid, and once it arrived the med droid performed a few tests and announced, “Indeed, My Lady, you are having twins. Your original scan took place too early in the pregnancy for us to pick up on it.”

Anakin watched numbly as Padmé and the handmaidens all started jabbering excitedly, already making plans for how to expand the nursery to accommodate two babies. Twins. He couldn’t believe it.

But this didn’t necessarily mean anything, he told himself. Just because there had been twins in his dream…and besides, the future was always in motion. Even if that dream _was_ a premonition, it was just one of infinite possibilities for how the future would turn out. It was by no means certain. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan had unhelpfully said when Anakin had confided in him about his dreams of his mother’s death.

“Twins, Anakin,” Padmé was saying, finally turning her attention to him. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, forcing a smile. “Very exciting.”

* * *

The months passed faster than he could keep track of. Anakin hadn’t even begun to come to terms with his impending fatherhood, and suddenly Padmé had a visible baby bump and it was getting bigger and bigger and the palace announced the news to the public and the whole galaxy knew about the twins. The handmaidens, other palace employees, visiting diplomats—everyone was telling Anakin how excited he must be, and he would just smile and nod and agree. The perfect trophy husband, just what Padmé had always wanted from him.

One day a little over halfway through the pregnancy, Padmé suddenly put her fork down during dinner and put a hand on her belly, smiling. “They’re kicking again,” she said. “Do you want to feel?”

Padmé had been feeling them kick for a few weeks now, but Anakin had yet to be able to feel it from the outside. He hesitated for a second before nodding. He stood and walked over to her, then tentatively placed his hand beside hers. They waited for several minutes, and Anakin was just about to give up and go back to his seat when he felt a distinct jab under his hand.

He gasped in utter awe, staring down at Padmé’s baby bump, too overwhelmed to hear whatever she was saying to him. Anakin bent down and knelt beside her chair, moving his cybernetic hand up to her stomach too even though he wasn’t sure the sensors would be strong enough to feel a small movement like the twins’ kicks.

A moment later there was another kick, and Anakin beamed at Padmé’s belly, feeling tears spring to his eyes. For the first time, he was thinking of his children as real, actual human beings rather than just an abstract concept. For the first time, he truly felt like a father. “Hey there, my little angels,” he said softly. “Can you hear me in there? It’s Daddy. I can’t wait to meet you.”

He reached out and felt them in the Force, their presences growing stronger and more distinct with every passing day. In that moment, Anakin could swear he felt a sort of bond with each of them in the Force. It was faint, it wasn’t like the bonds he’d had with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, but there was something there. Almost like his children already recognized him in the Force, even though they weren’t even fully-developed yet.

Anakin rested his forehead against Padmé’s baby bump, smiling broadly as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered to them for the first time. After a moment, he felt one of Padmé’s hands moving to cover his own, and he was too overcome with emotion to find it odd.

That night, Padmé called Anakin into her bedroom and shut the door behind him. He was half-hopeful that she’d changed her mind and wanted to start having sex again—his own hands were so much less satisfying now that he knew how much better it was to be with her—but the serious expression on her face made him second-guess that.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She moved to sit on her bed and beckoned him to do the same. “I wanted to talk to you privately, about something important,” she said. “Can I trust you not to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone? Well, the handmaidens already know my intentions and I trust them with my life, but still, I’d rather not have to involve them in this any more than necessary in case it goes wrong.”

Anakin was startled. What in the Force could she possibly be about to say to him? “Of course. Not like I have anyone else to even talk to,” he pointed out.

Padmé nodded and was quiet for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “You must wonder why I wanted to marry you in the first place, instead of letting the Emperor kill you,” she said finally.

Anakin frowned at her. “It was because you wanted an heir who was powerful in the Force,” he said. “Wasn’t it?”

“Well, yes, that was part of it, but there was another reason. A more important one.” Padmé took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I need you to help me kill him. I need you to help me kill Palpatine.”


	11. Chapter 11

For a long moment, Anakin could only stare at her, trying to process what he’d just heard. “What?” he said at last. “You want—you want to kill Palpatine?”

He thought that surely she must be joking, but Padmé’s expression was stony and determined. “Yes,” she said.

“But you’re on his side,” Anakin said. “You’re his heir. You support the Empire, you—” A wild thought occurred to him. “You’re—are you secretly working for the Rebellion?”

“What? Of course I’m not, don’t be absurd,” Padmé said impatiently. “I don’t want the Republic back, look what it did to Naboo.”

Obviously she still hated the Republic, Anakin realized, after it had stood back and allowed a massacre on her home planet and the deaths of her parents. It had been so long since their conversation that night on Naboo and she’d made no mention of it since, he’d almost forgotten. “Then what’s going on?” he asked.

“I support the Empire, but I don’t support Palpatine. When he first reorganized the Republic into an empire and asked me to be his heir, I thought he was doing it to help people. I thought he wanted to prevent what happened on Naboo from happening on other planets, I thought he wanted to improve people’s lives.” Padmé’s eyes were overly bright. “But now I see that he fooled me just as much as he fooled everybody else. I have good reason to believe he _orchestrated_ the invasion of Naboo, just to manipulate me into calling for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum so that he’d be elected to replace him. And I still blame the Senate for its ineffectiveness in dealing with the situation, but the Trade Federation might never have invaded in the first place if not for Palpatine.”

Anakin gaped at her. “Palpatine was behind that?”

She nodded. “He only wants power for himself, and he doesn’t care if the entire galaxy has to suffer for it. Even his home planet.”

“Well, yeah. Anyone could’ve told you he was a power-hungry bastard,” Anakin pointed out. “Are you only just now realizing it?”

“No, I realized it years ago, only weeks after the Empire was first born,” Padmé said. “But by then it was too late for me to rebel and fight against him, I was already deeply involved in the Empire’s inner workings. The Rebellion was only just brewing and they would never have trusted me, not that I would’ve wanted to ally myself with them anyway. So I vowed to take down Palpatine from the inside, but I knew I couldn’t do it alone. And when I heard that you, the Chosen One, had escaped the Jedi purge, I knew you were the one I needed to help me.”

“Why would you think you could trust me?”

Padmé shrugged. “I knew you’d be just as eager to see Palpatine dead as I was, even if we had slightly different visions about what should happen after his death,” she said.

“I suppose,” said Anakin. His brain was overflowing with a thousand questions, so he blurted out the next one that came to him. “But why would you go to the trouble of tracking down a Jedi and getting him on your side instead of finding an ally closer to you?”

“Anakin, be reasonable. Palpatine is a Sith Lord,” Padmé said. “He’s the most powerful Force user in the entire galaxy. Except for you. You’re the only one who can stand a chance against him, don’t you see? Even Master Yoda was no match for him, but you? You’re the Chosen One.”

“That’s what people have been telling me since I was nine years old, but I was never sure if I believed it,” Anakin said quietly. “Padmé, I’m no match for Palpatine either, you saw how easily he throws me around during our training sessions—”

“But if he didn’t see you coming,” Padmé said earnestly. “I can shield my mind well enough, it’s how I’ve been able to keep him from sensing I want to overthrow him. But if I actually tried to kill him myself, he’d see me coming in an instant. You’re a Jedi, you can cloak yourself in the Force much better than I can, you’d be able to sneak up on him without him sensing your intention.”

Anakin shook his head and stood up. “Just—just give me a minute,” he said, pacing around the room as Padmé watched him anxiously. He tried to sort through everything that was going on. Padmé wanted him to kill Palpatine for her. Anakin really didn’t think he’d be able to, but he was willing to try. After all, he’d wanted to kill him when he first arrived here, and Padmé’s threats to Owen and Beru were the only things stopping him from attempting it.

He stopped pacing and looked at her. “The Lars family,” he said. “They won’t be harmed if I help you? What if I’m unsuccessful and Palpatine catches us, and he kills them as punishment?”

“I’ll call off the Stormtroopers watching them before the assassination attempt and send the handmaidens to bring them somewhere safe, so that Palpatine doesn’t know where they are,” Padmé said. “That way if we fail, he won’t be able to harm them.”

Anakin studied her for a minute. “You’ll call off the Stormtroopers and deliver a message from me telling them to flee. And enough credits for them to be able to start a new life away from Tatooine,” he added. “But _you_ won’t know where they’ve gone either. No one in the entire Empire will. That way, if I agree to help you, you will never use them to threaten me again.”

Padmé nodded. “All right.”

Anakin kept thinking. _You must wonder why I wanted to marry you in the first place._ This was why. So he could impregnate her and then do her dirty work for her. “I really am just a tool to you,” he said aloud, bitterness seeping into his tone.

Padmé furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not that I ever thought you genuinely cared about me,” Anakin said, starting to pace again. “But still, now I see that you only were interested in me because you think I’m the Chosen One. You’ve only ever cared about my power. Just like every single other person in my life. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would’ve left me to rot on Tatooine if not for my midichlorian count, and you would’ve let Palpatine torture me to death.”

His voice was shaking, and Padmé was looking bewildered. “What do you want me to say?” she said. “Of course I only cared about your power. At first. But things are different now, we’ve been married over a year and I know you as a person, and—and I _do_ care about you, Anakin.”

He snorted. “Liar.”

“Anakin—”

“If you really cared about me, you would’ve called off the Stormtroopers from Owen and Beru ages ago,” he snapped. “You’ve only agreed to do it now in exchange for me helping you with your assassination plot.”

“I couldn’t risk letting you escape before I’d asked for your help!”

“Because you didn’t trust me! You thought I’d run the second it was possible for me to do so!”

“And wouldn’t you have?” she fired back. “If I’d told you yesterday that Owen and Beru were safe from the Empire forever, wouldn’t you have left without a backwards glance?”

“I—” That gave Anakin pause. Would he have just up and left the twins like that, before even getting the chance to know them? “I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he said finally. “But you’re missing the point—”

“No, _you’re_ missing the point!” Padmé said fiercely. “I’m sorry I hurt your kriffing feelings by only caring about your power instead of who you are as a person, but the wellbeing of the galaxy is at stake here! If we don’t stop Palpatine, who will? How many more lives will he have to destroy before someone takes him down? Are you going to allow the galaxy to continue suffering because you’re upset that I hurt your feelings? Some _Jedi_ you are.”

She uttered the last sentence scathingly, and Anakin glowered at her. “How do I know you’ll be any better?” he retorted. “For all I know, you’re just as selfish and power-hungry as him, and you’re only pretending to care about the wellbeing of the galaxy so that I’ll help you. But once Palpatine’s dead and the throne’s yours, you’ll kill me and have free rein over the Empire and cause just as much suffering as he has!”

“I walked into my own home and found the floor covered with my parents’ blood when I was fourteen years old!” Padmé shouted. “If you think I can stomach the thought of any other person in the entire galaxy going through a thing like that, the things Palpatine inflicts on them on a daily basis, then you don’t know me at all!”

Anakin fell silent, breathing heavily. She was glaring at him, but there were tears in her eyes too. “I want,” he said finally, “to hear some concrete plans about what you intend to do once you’re empress. Go on.”

“I will put a stop to the exploitation of impoverished worlds,” Padmé said. “No more imperial enforcers. No more labor camps. I’ll give some power back to the Senate, so that it’s no longer a glorified puppet show like it is now, but not so much power that it becomes complacent and ineffective like the Republic’s Senate. I’ll call for every single senator to be democratically elected by their home planet, and I’ll impose term limits so that senators must be reelected every few years, and their people can vote them out of office if they become corrupt.”

Anakin watched her carefully. She did seem sincere, and everything she was saying sounded pretty good to him…but he was no politician, he had no idea whether her propositions would actually change anything, or if she’d even be able to carry them out…

“But the first thing I’ll do,” she continued, “the very first thing I’ll do when I become empress, is outlaw slavery throughout the Empire. Even the Outer Rim worlds. Even Tatooine.”

Anakin’s breath hitched. Palpatine had only worsened the situation, but even under the Republic slavery had been widespread, though technically illegal. The Republic had never cared to do anything about it because it benefitted them. The Jedi hadn’t wanted to intervene because they didn’t want to act against the Republic. Not even Obi-Wan had wanted to help Anakin return to Tatooine and free his mother.

And now, for the first time in his entire life, someone was looking at him and telling him that she knew about the suffering he’d endured and wanted to do something about it. Telling him that she didn’t want anyone else to go through what he’d gone through. Telling him that she cared.

“You’d have to enforce it,” he said finally. “The Republic outlawed slavery too, but they didn’t enforce the law, so it continued.”

“I will station Stormtroopers and imperial officials on every planet to make sure that every single soul in the galaxy remains free, if that’s what it takes,” Padmé said quietly.

Anakin met her eyes. And he believed her. “All right,” he said, slowly sitting back down on the bed beside her. “I’ll help you.”

Padmé gave him a nod, looking relieved. “Thank you,” she said.

“So…what’s the plan?”

“I haven’t exactly got one yet,” she confessed. “I just thought you could use the Force or something.”

“Oh, very specific,” Anakin muttered. “We’ll have to work out the details. When were you envisioning this happening? Soon?”

“As soon as possible, yes, but not until after the twins are born,” Padmé said, resting a hand on her baby bump. “When I first become empress, it’ll be a volatile time, and being pregnant makes me much more vulnerable and less able to defend myself. People will try to take the throne from me, and the Rebels will try to strike during the transition of power—”

“What are you going to do about the Rebels once you’re empress?” Anakin interrupted, realizing it was a question he’d forgotten to ask.

“I’ll do everything in my power to negotiate peace with them. This civil war is tearing the galaxy apart,” Padmé said. “But there’s only so much I can do. If they refuse to negotiate, I may be forced to continue the war until they’re defeated.”

Anakin pursed his lips, but he nodded, knowing that she was right. But hopefully if she made good on all her promises, the Rebels would see that the Empire was becoming a force for good and they would agree to stop fighting.

“Anyway, we’ll do nothing until the twins have been born and I’ve fully recovered my strength,” Padmé continued. “But that also means that we _have_ to succeed, Anakin. If Palpatine catches us trying to assassinate him, I don’t even want to know what would happen to the twins.”

The thought made Anakin’s blood run cold. “Why couldn’t we have done this before you got pregnant?” he said.

“I wasn’t sure I could trust you enough to let you in on my plan,” Padmé said. “It was only when you were talking to the twins at dinner tonight that I truly knew…if you wouldn’t agree to help me for my sake, you might at least agree to do it out of love for them.”

Anakin briefly touched her belly, sending a pulse of love and warmth to the twins to the Force, though he wasn’t sure they’d be able to feel it. “I…I would do anything for them,” he said, realizing it was true only as the words left his mouth. “And to let them grow up in a galaxy that’s at peace, that’s not ruled by an evil Sith tyrant…” Anakin took a shaky breath. “I would die to give that to them, Padmé. I swear to you, I’ll kill Palpatine no matter what it takes. Even if I die doing it.”

Padmé took his hand and squeezed it. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to.

* * *

Over the next couple months, Anakin felt a spark of true, genuine hope burning inside him for the first time since he’d come to Coruscant over a year ago. Palpatine’s days were numbered. Anakin and Padmé were going to kill him and finally put his reign of terror to an end, and then Padmé would rule the galaxy and make it a better place, a place where all its citizens could live in peace and prosperity.

Anakin felt like he had to reevaluate everything he’d ever thought he knew about her. She still had no love for democracy or the Republic, but…in all honesty, neither did Anakin. The Republic had turned a blind eye to slavery on Tatooine and other planets, and he’d always felt the Senate to be just as corrupt and ineffective as Padmé said. Frankly, he’d only toyed with the thought of escaping Coruscant and joining the Rebellion because he opposed Palpatine specifically, not necessarily the concept of the Empire.

But now at last, he knew once and for all that Padmé was nothing like Palpatine. She _wasn’t_ a monster. She wanted to help people, to improve their lives. She wanted to free the slaves.

As Padmé’s pregnancy drew near its end, Anakin’s anticipation grew until he could hardly stand to wait any longer, both for his children’s birth and Palpatine’s demise. He and Padmé began to plan more seriously for the assassination and agreed that they would send the twins somewhere safe and unknown to Palpatine just beforehand, in hopes of keeping them out of danger were anything to go wrong.

And as for Owen and Beru, Padmé told Anakin they couldn’t risk moving them to safety and removing the Stormtroopers until just before the assassination, because if Palpatine found out he might suspect that something was afoot. Anakin reluctantly agreed—it was a good point, they couldn’t do _anything_ that might make Palpatine suspicious—but he knew he’d feel a lot better once they were fully out of harm’s way.

One night just weeks before Padmé’s due date, the Force awakened Anakin just before the shouting. He sat bolt upright and stared wildly around in the darkness, knowing immediately that something was horribly wrong. Heart pounding, he jumped out of bed and raced outside his bedroom—

—and almost ran right smack into Eirtaé, who was apparently coming to find him. “Eirtaé, what’s happened?” he asked urgently. “Something’s wrong—”

“It’s Lady Amidala,” she gasped, tears streaming down her face. “She’s been kidnapped by the Rebels.”


	12. Chapter 12

“What?” Anakin said numbly. Instinctively he reached out in the Force…and he went cold all over as he realized that Padmé’s familiar Force presence was gone. He sensed nothing from her—and nothing from the twins either.

“What happened?” he asked sharply, feeling panic rising. “How do you know it was the Rebels?”

“We caught one of them, the others are questioning him now.”

Anakin pushed past her and hurried out into the main part of their apartments, Eirtaé following behind him and continuing to ramble hysterically. “Sabé and Dormé were stationed outside her bedroom tonight, she doesn’t let any of us in the room with her while she’s sleeping because it disturbs her rest. They didn’t hear anything at all, until right at the last minute they thought they heard a thumping noise, so they rushed inside in time to grab hold of the last Rebel leaving the room, but the ship flew away with Lady Amidala before they could stop it. We contacted the hangar at once and they sent ships after it, but they couldn’t shoot the Rebel ship down because it might kill her, so they were just trying to catch the ship, but it jumped to lightspeed before they could and now she could be anywhere!”

Every single handmaiden was awake and all in a tizzy, some of them conferring with each other and others shouting at holograms of other imperial officials and still others frantically consulting datapads, as if they would somehow reveal where Padmé had gone. Sabé and Dormé were standing beside a man in a Rebel uniform who was strapped down on a chair in the sitting room, his wrists and ankles bound in stun cuffs.

“Has he said anything?” Anakin asked, striding over to Sabé.

She shook her head. “No, My Lord, he won’t talk. Perhaps the Emperor could persuade him—”

“Let me try first, it’ll be quicker than waiting for the Emperor to arrive,” Anakin interrupted. He turned to glare at the Rebel. “Where is she?”

The Rebel smirked. “Someplace where the rest of us will be safe from her oppression.”

 _“Her_ oppression? All she’s ever wanted is to make the galaxy a better place,” Anakin snarled. “What about the children?”

“What about them?”

“What will happen to them?”

The Rebel shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I don’t know. They’ll be killed, I expect, whether they’re still inside her or not.”

Rage such as Anakin had never felt coursed through him, even worse than the day he’d watched his mother die. His hand shot out, and the Rebel started choking and gasping for breath as Anakin used the Force to strangle him. “I’ll ask you again. _Where is she?”_

“Kill me…if you want,” the Rebel got out, his eyes glittering maliciously even as Anakin squeezed the breath from his lungs. “I’ll never…tell you.”

How Anakin wished he had his lightsaber so he could run him through on the spot. But this man was their only chance of figuring out where Padmé had gone, he couldn’t die until they had their information. “We’re doing this the hard way, then,” Anakin said, and then he did something he had never done before and slammed inside the Rebel’s head with the Force.

Anakin’s eyes were still open and seeing the room around him, but it faded into the background as he focused all his attention on the task at hand. The Rebel’s mind was strong and shielded—Anakin wouldn’t be surprised if a Force-user had taught him some shielding techniques—but Anakin used all his might to shatter each barrier that stood between him and the information of Padmé’s whereabouts, not caring if he damaged the Rebel’s mind in the process.

He mentally picked up and discarded different bits of intel as he searched and searched. He was getting closer and closer, he was almost there—

“Geonosis,” Anakin said, coming back to himself. “There’s a Rebel command ship in the Arkanis sector, near the planet Geonosis. That’s where she is.”

“Are you sure?” Sabé asked.

“Absolutely.”

“What did you do to him?” Eirtaé whispered, sounding frightened.

Anakin looked back at the Rebel, and his stomach jolted as he saw that the man had passed out cold. Blood was trickling out of his nose. But then Anakin remembered his words. _They’ll be killed, I expect, whether they’re still inside her or not._

His resolve hardened once more. He’d told Padmé once that he would do anything for the twins, and he had meant it wholeheartedly. “It doesn’t matter,” Anakin said shortly. “Do whatever you want with him, we have the information we need. But we’re wasting time, she might not have very long—”

“You’re right, we have to hurry,” Sabé said. “We’ll assemble a squad—”

“No,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “It would be better if I went alone. A full-scale attack on the ship would only put her in danger, and I’ll have a better chance of sneaking in undetected if I’m alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sabé said in a voice that brooked no argument, so Anakin nodded and the two of them departed at once after instructing the others to update Rex, the Stormtrooper captain, about their plan.

They rushed to the hangar and found Rex waiting for them. “My Lord, I must insist I accompany you,” he said.

“It would really be better if as few of us as possible—”

“I understand that, My Lord, but I don’t feel right about letting you two go on your own,” he said stubbornly. “One more person can’t hurt.”

“Fine,” Anakin said impatiently, not wanting to waste any more time. “Let’s go, then.”

They climbed into the fastest ship they could find that was also nondescript enough not to arouse suspicion upon their arrival. Soon they were exiting Coruscant’s atmosphere, punching in coordinates, and jumping to hyperspace. Anakin didn’t even want to think about what might be happening to Padmé right now. She was alive, she _had_ to be.

_Being pregnant makes me much more vulnerable and less able to defend myself._

That must have been why the Rebels had chosen now to attempt to kidnap her, Anakin thought angrily. They were purposely taking advantage of her pregnancy, knowing she’d have a harder time fighting back when she was nearly full-term with twins. But surely they wouldn’t _actually_ harm her while she was pregnant, would they? The Rebels always claimed to be fighting for justice. Surely they wouldn’t sink so low as to hurt innocent unborn babies. The Rebel he’d interrogated must only have been taunting him, mustn’t he have?

A few hours later they arrived, and Anakin dropped out of hyperspace. He exhaled in relief when he saw that sure enough, a large command ship was just ahead. Anakin approached it and landed in the hangar without any trouble, seeing as their ship wasn’t recognizable as belonging to the Empire. But when they got out, a Rebel approached them, looking suspicious. “Hey, aren’t you Anakin Skywalker?” she asked. “Aren’t you with the Empire now?”

“I am a Rebel officer here on official business,” Anakin said smoothly, waving his hand in front of the woman’s face. “You will disable the security system and if asked, tell your comrades that you are acting under orders from an officer.”

The woman’s eyes crossed slightly, face going blank. “You are a Rebel officer here on official business,” she said dazedly. “I will disable the security system and if asked, tell my comrades that I am acting under orders from an officer.”

She turned around and exited the hangar. “Nice one, sir,” Rex said. Anakin hated using Jedi mind tricks—taking away another sentient’s willpower had always stunk of slavery to him—but the Rebel had recognized him and his only other choice would’ve been to kill her. As they waited a few minutes to give the Rebel time to disable the security, Anakin closed his eyes and reached out in the Force, looking for Padmé.

“She’s here,” he said at last. “I can sense her. She’s…” He concentrated harder. “She’s somewhere on the third level.”

Satisfied that they’d waited long enough, they hurried out, all three keeping a hand on their blasters as Anakin sorely wished he could’ve gotten his lightsaber back from Palpatine before they left. They reached the third level without running into any problems—the Rebel must have done a good job with the security system—but as they turned a corner, they saw a dozen soldiers standing by the door at the end of the hall.

“She must be in there,” said Sabé under her breath. She turned to look intently at Anakin. “Can you take them?”

Anakin knew what she meant: are you willing to fight against the people you used to want to ally yourself with? He took a deep breath and thought of his children. His feelings towards Padmé may have still been unclear, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would kill anyone who tried to harm the babies she carried inside her. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ll sneak up on them, then attack.”

They slunk silently down the hall, keeping to the shadows, and they were ten feet away when one of the guards heard their footsteps and called, “Who’s there?”

All three exchanged a glance, and a second later they jumped out into the open. Blaster fire started up immediately; Anakin prayed Sabé and Rex could dodge it well enough without the advantage of Jedi reflexes, but he didn’t have time to check on them. He tried not to notice that Sabé and Rex had set their blasters to kill whereas his was on stun.

They made fairly short work of the Rebels, and the other two followed Anakin as he rushed towards the door, waving a hand to open it with the Force. There were two more soldiers in there, but Sabé and Rex each shot one before they had a chance to blink as Anakin stood frozen in horror at the sight before him.

Padmé’s unconscious form was floating above the ground, held in an energy bond. Her arms were stretched above her, and her head was slumped forward onto her chest. But what really caught Anakin’s attention were the cuts and bruises all over her face and arms. Blood was pounding in his ears. They had hurt her. They had tortured her.

“Turn the energy bond off,” he said shakily, hurrying towards her. Rex moved over to the control panel in the corner of the room and punched a button, and Anakin caught Padmé as she fell forward when the energy bond was deactivated.

“Padmé, Padmé…” Anakin gently stroked her face, then laid a hand on her heavily swollen belly and nearly sobbed in relief when he felt that the twins were still moving.

Sabé crouched down beside them, fear palpable in her expression. Just then, Padmé’s eyes fluttered open. “Anakin?” she murmured, squinting at them. “Sabé?”

“We’re here,” Sabé soothed her, voice quaking slightly. “You’re safe now, My Lady. We’re taking you home.”

Padmé gave a soft, pained whimper and closed her eyes again. “We have to get her back to Coruscant, now,” said Sabé in a low voice. She looked at Anakin. “Can you carry her? Rex and I will go in front of you and hold the Rebels off.”

Anakin nodded and struggled to his feet, adjusting his grip on Padmé to support her better.

Then, someone spoke. An achingly familiar voice. “Anakin?”

Anakin whirled around. There, standing in the doorway, lightsabers ignited, were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YET ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER i'm so sorry


	13. Chapter 13

The cruel, painful irony of the situation was that in any other circumstances but the current ones, Anakin would have been overwhelmed with joy at seeing his two best friends alive and well for the first time in three and a half years.

Sabé and Rex immediately started firing on them, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka easily deflected the blaster bolts with their lightsabers. With a wave of their hands, all three blasters were flying out of their hands (or holster, in Anakin’s case), leaving them defenseless.

Anakin’s hands were rather full, but Sabé and Rex exchanged a glance and both charged at the Jedi even though they no longer had weapons to defend themselves. As one, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka Force-threw them against the wall, and they both crumpled to the ground. Anakin prayed that they were only unconscious.

Now the three of them were alone to talk. Ahsoka was first to speak. “So it’s true.” She looked shocked and Obi-Wan resigned. “You _are_ a traitor. I-I didn’t want to believe it—”

“I’m not a traitor,” Anakin insisted. “Please, you have to believe me. I was taken captive against my will, I didn’t want to marry her or any of it—”

“Then let go of her and get out of here,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Anakin clutched Padmé tighter, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “No,” he said. “She’s not what you think, she’s a good person—”

“She’s brainwashed you.” Ahsoka looked horrified.

“No! I’m not brainwashed and I’m not a traitor! Let us go, please—”

“Anakin, you are holding in your arms the heir to the Empire,” Obi-Wan said. “Once she’s out of the way, the Rebellion—”

“Killing defenseless people isn’t the Jedi way, you know it isn’t!” Anakin said, panic creeping into his voice. “And killing her won’t help anything, it’s Palpatine you want dead, _he’s_ the one causing all the Rebellion’s problems, Padmé hasn’t done anything wrong—”

“Hasn’t done anything wrong? Skyguy, are you hearing yourself?”

“Please,” Anakin said desperately. “Even if you won’t believe me about her, please, let us go. Those are my babies in there. My children. They’re innocent. Please, don’t hurt them.”

His voice cracked, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Ahsoka lowered her lightsabers, looking uncertain.

But Obi-Wan still had that grim expression on his face. “You’ve allowed your personal feelings to cloud your judgment,” he said. “This is exactly why the Code forbids attachments—”

“The kriffing Code doesn’t exist anymore! The Jedi don’t exist! We’re all that’s left,” Anakin said angrily. “You’re about to murder an unconscious pregnant woman and two unborn children in cold blood, and you’re telling me that _my_ judgment is clouded?”

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy! Emperor Palpatine is evil, and the Empire—”

“I know he is,” Anakin interrupted. “And so does she. We’re going to overthrow him and once Padmé is empress, she’ll restore peace and justice to the galaxy—”

“She’s lied to you,” Obi-Wan said. “If you think she would actually do that once the power’s in her hands—”

“You don’t know her like I do! You’ve never even met her before, but I’ve been living with her for a year and a half and I _know_ she’s a good person.” Anakin turned to look beseechingly at Ahsoka, who was still hesitating. “Snips, please. You trust me, don’t you?”

“I—I don’t know,” she said softly.

“Ahsoka, don’t listen to him,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s been corrupted by the Dark Side—”

“No, I _haven’t!”_ Anakin roared, tightening his grip on Padmé and feeling rage and fear and _power_ welling up inside him, bubbling just under the surface as everything in the room started to shake and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka looked at him with alarm in their eyes—

Suddenly a huge wave of sheer energy burst out of him, sweeping through the entire room and pushing Obi-Wan and Ahsoka down with such force that they hit their heads and were knocked unconscious. The energy bond and its control panel exploded, the thousands of pieces falling to the ground with a clatter. Anakin stood stock-still, astonished by what he had just done.

Heart in his throat, he gently laid Padmé back down on the ground and hurried over to his former master and his former Padawan. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that they were indeed still breathing. He’d cleared the way for him to escape with Padmé, and he’d done it without having to seriously harm two people he still loved.

But that energy wave he’d somehow unleashed…that had been pure Dark Side. Anakin felt the fury and the Dark receding from him as quickly as they had come, but he was frightened by how easily and instinctively he’d tapped into the Darkness within him, both then and when he’d interrogated the Rebel, after all he’d done to resist it during Palpatine’s training…

But there was no time to worry about that. He had to get Padmé back to Coruscant.

To Anakin’s utter relief, Sabé and Rex were both waking up; he wouldn’t have been able to carry them, and he knew they would’ve wanted him to leave them behind in favor of getting Padmé to safety but he would’ve felt horrible doing so.

Sabé’s eyes fell upon Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s unconscious forms. “My Lord, what—?”

“We have to go,” Anakin said urgently. The others nodded, and they all hurried out, Rex and Sabé grabbing all three blasters off the floor beside Obi-Wan and Ahsoka as they went. Anakin sorely considered taking their lightsabers too, but he couldn’t actually use them while he was carrying Padmé and he knew Palpatine would only confiscate them from him once he got back to Coruscant anyway.

Alarms were going off throughout the ship; clearly, their luck had run out. They dodged blaster fire coming from every direction as they sprinted down the hall and threw themselves into the turbolift. They had a few moments to catch their breath as it traveled down to the main level, but they bolted out towards the hangar as soon as the door opened.

“There’s too many of them,” Sabé shouted, her own blaster in one hand and Anakin’s in the other, firing shot after shot. “Get back to the ship, we’ll hold them off.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Anakin said.

“You have to keep her safe! The galaxy needs her more than it needs either of us!”

Anakin knew she was right. “Fine! But you’d better be right behind us!”

With that, he took off across the hangar, dodging blaster fire left and right and running faster than he ever had in his life, even faster than that day on Tatooine a lifetime ago when the Stormtroopers had come for him. Three hundred feet away. Anakin ducked just in time as a bolt whizzed over his head. Two hundred feet. He clutched Padmé closer against his body. One hundred feet. He didn’t dare look behind him to see if Sabé and Rex were following. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty. Twenty.

Padmé suddenly woke up with a cry, and Anakin looked down in horror as he saw blood blooming on her left shoulder. She’d been hit. But then he was running up the gangway of the ship and slamming a button to close the door behind him. He laid her down in the back of the ship, then hurriedly tore a strip off his tunic, balled it up, and placed it on her shoulder to staunch the blood flow.

“Anakin…” Padmé whispered. “Anakin…” Her eyes fluttered shut once more, and Anakin’s panic increased.

“Stay with me, Padmé, stay with me,” he said desperately. She was growing very pale. Anakin summoned a medpac with the Force and rummaged through it with one hand, keeping the fabric against Padmé’s shoulder with the other. He quickly found a bacta patch and applied it, but he knew it wouldn’t be that effective against such a deep wound. And shoulder aside, Force knew what the Rebels had done to her before Anakin, Sabé, and Rex had arrived; shuddering, he thought of the one or two occasions when he’d seen energy bonds used for electrical torture. If they didn’t make it back to Coruscant in time—

“My Lord!”

He whipped his head around and saw in relief that Sabé and Rex were standing there, looking worse for wear but mostly unharmed. “Get us in the air now!” Anakin said. “She’s been shot.”

They both paled, but they hurried to the controls and moments later they were taking off. Anakin placed his hand on Padmé’s belly again. The twins were still moving, but he could sense that they were distressed, and it made his eyes well up with tears. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, unsure if he was trying to convince the babies, Padmé, or himself. “Don’t be scared. Everything’s going to be fine.”

They made the jump to hyperspace, and Sabé returned a moment later, looking more upset than Anakin had ever seen her. “How could you let this happen?” she snapped.

“I didn’t!” Anakin said, stung. “There was blaster fire everywhere, it’s a miracle I managed to dodge as much as I did! Besides, you were supposed to be there protecting her!”

Sabé opened her mouth to retort, then stopped herself and took a deep, slow breath. “Arguing won’t help anything. We must stay calm.”

Anakin bit his lip and nodded, staring helplessly down at Padmé.

He spent most of the journey clutching Padmé’s hand in silence, occasionally getting up to check with Rex how much longer the journey was. It was taking too long, much too long. If only they’d brought a faster ship…

Finally they arrived on Coruscant. Rex navigated them to the palace hanger, and Anakin picked Padmé up as soon as they landed. He hurried to the medbay, Sabé trailing right behind them, and only distantly registered that the other handmaidens had appeared out of nowhere to flank them as they ran. Upon reaching the medbay, Anakin laid Padmé down on an operation table, and he and the handmaidens were forced to step back as the med droids examined her.

“She is slipping,” one of the droids said. “We must deliver the babies now. It may be the only way to save them.”

Anakin nodded dazedly, wide-eyed and pale, and the droids allowed him to move closer and take Padmé’s hand as they began. Anakin was relieved when she woke up a minute later, but it was replaced once more by panic as she started screaming and sobbing. _This is normal. She’s giving birth. Of course it hurts._ But that didn’t stop him from starting to cry a little too. Her pain was slamming into him in the Force. She was in agony, so much agony…

“It’s all right, Padmé,” said Anakin, squeezing her hand tightly. “It’s all right. I’m here. We’re all here. You’re going to be all right.” He could hear Sabé also murmuring words of comfort on Padmé’s other side, though too softly for Anakin to make out what she was saying.

After what felt like ages, the room was suddenly filled with loud, shrill crying. “It’s a boy,” the droids announced, placing him in Anakin’s arms. His breath caught in his throat and he stared down at his son in wonder. Anakin bent down to show Padmé, who managed the faintest of smiles as she feebly reached a hand out to brush their son’s cheek.

Then Padmé started screaming again, and a few minutes later there was another baby wailing and the droids announced it was a girl. They handed her to Sabé. Anakin craned his neck to get a better look, heart melting all over again as he saw how tiny and beautiful she was.

Wordlessly, Sabé held her out to Padmé. She gave another small smile and touched their daughter’s face just as she had done to their son. But then her hand fell back to her side, and her eyes started closing, and Anakin’s temporary joy was gone again just like that. “Padmé!”

One droid approached him and took the boy from his arms to perform some post-birth medical procedures, a second took the girl from Sabé, and a third said solemnly, “Her condition is fatal. There is nothing more we can do. I am sorry.”

“She’s—she’s dying?” asked Anakin blankly.

“Yes. I am sorry,” the droid repeated.

Anakin looked back at Padmé, numb with shock. She couldn’t die. He needed her. Their children needed her. The _galaxy_ needed her.

“Anakin,” Sabé said desperately, and Anakin didn’t even notice that she was addressing him by his actual name for the first time. “Isn’t there—isn’t there something you can do? Some kind of Force healing—?”

“I—I don’t—” But then Anakin remembered. A story Palpatine had once told him during their lessons. The tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise…

“There is, supposedly, a way to bring back someone on the brink of death,” Anakin said slowly. “But in order to do so…you have to sap the life out of somebody else. The Force must be balanced. A life for a life.”

“Can you do it?”

“I doubt it, I have no idea how it works. But…I could at least try.”

Sabé looked determined. “Use me.”

Anakin blinked at her. “What?”

“Use my life to save her.”

“Wha—no,” Anakin said firmly. “No, Sabé, I’m not going to _kill_ you—”

“You _must,_ if it can save her life—”

“No! I won’t do it—”

Sabé grabbed her blaster and pointed it at herself. “Either you use my life to save her, or I pull this trigger and take it myself, because I would rather die than live with the shame of knowing that I let my queen die when I could have saved her!” she said fiercely.

Anakin gaped at her. He turned to the rest of the handmaidens, who were watching the scene with varying degrees of shock. “Use me instead, My Lord,” Dormé said suddenly, stepping forward.

Then Cordé stepped out. “No, take my life.”

Rabé. “No, it should be me.”

Suddenly all nine of them were saying it, begging Anakin to let them sacrifice themselves for their mistress. “No,” Sabé said loudly, and the others fell silent. “I am chief among you. It’s my place to do this, and my honor.” She took one of Padmé’s hands and held the other out to Anakin. “If you think there’s even the slightest chance this could work, My Lord, you _must_ try.”

Anakin licked his lips. It almost certainly wouldn’t work, but on the off chance it did…Padmé would kill him when she knew he’d killed Sabé to save her. But Sabé would kill him if he didn’t try to. And with every second that ticked by, Padmé’s life was slipping further and further away.

He took a deep breath, and he reached out in the Force—

—and he felt another presence, elsewhere in the palace. And he knew exactly the solution.

“No, Sabé,” he said.

“But—”

“I’m still going to try it,” he said. “But I’m not using you, there’s someone else I can use.”

“My Lord, Lady Amidala would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for her—”

“She’d never allow _you_ to do it either, and besides, it’s not me,” Anakin interrupted. “It’s not any of us.”

Suddenly, a knowing look passed between the handmaidens. Sabé nodded at him. “Very well.”

Anakin took Padmé’s hand with his flesh one. She was still breathing, but only just. He had no idea what to do, but he instinctively reached out in the Force, searching for Padmé’s life force, and he grabbed onto it when he found it, faint and flickering. He kept a tight hold on it, and then with the rest of his concentration he searched and searched until he found Palpatine’s presence.

Anakin was shielding himself. Palpatine didn’t know he was there. Anakin paused for a moment, and then he struck, latching onto Palpatine’s life force before he could sense what Anakin was up to. Palpatine fought back immediately, and Anakin screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as he struggled to keep ahold of him. He was sweating profusely and starting to feel dizzy, but he knew he was doing something right, he had to keep going.

Still trapped inside his own head, trapped inside the very Force itself, Anakin dragged Palpatine’s struggling life force towards Padmé’s fading one. And then, after a minute of the most intense concentration of his life, they were merging.

And Anakin began to trade one for the other. But there was intense Darkness inside Palpatine’s life force, and Anakin knew he had to keep it away from Padmé. He visualized a strainer in his mind, with the pure, unadulterated Living Force that existed in every sentient being flowing through the tiny holes while the thick, sludgy Darkness was trapped. Anakin felt Padmé’s life force growing brighter and stronger, and Palpatine’s growing dimmer and fainter. It was working.

But suddenly, there was a barrier. A wall of Darkness, preventing Anakin from completing the process. He gritted his teeth and tried with all his might to push through, but it wouldn’t let him. Anakin’s Light couldn’t get past it. He was _so close,_ he could feel it, if he could just get this one last barrier out of the way—

And then he heard a voice in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory or if it was the Force itself whispering to him.

_He is the Chosen One. He will bring balance._

Balance. That was it. This was a Dark Side process; Anakin couldn’t hope to complete it if he remained fully in the Light.

So he took a deep breath, and rather than trying to break through the Darkness, he opened himself up and let it in.

The barrier dissolved. Anakin didn’t have to fight the Dark, because he _was_ the Dark. He was the Dark and the Light. He was the Balance.

Palpatine’s life force flickered and went out, and Padmé’s exploded like a sunburst.

Two sets of eyes flew open, and one remained shut forever, as Padmé took a loud, gasping breath. “Anakin?” she asked faintly, looking up at him in confusion. “What’s happening? Where are the babies? Is everything all right?”

Anakin felt like he was going to either vomit or pass out, but a broad, disbelieving smile spread across his face and his eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Everything is perfect.”

Then he started swaying where he stood, and Rabé quickly pulled over a chair while Eirtaé fetched him some water. Anakin collapsed into the chair, panting as hard as if he’d just run around the entire circumference of Coruscant.

“Anakin, are you all right?” Padmé said, looking alarmed.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “I’m just…tired. It’s been a long day.”

Before she could ask anything further, the med droids rushed back to her side. After several minutes of examining her, they announced in utter bewilderment that she was now completely healthy and would recover fully with a bit of rest.

Just when Anakin thought he couldn’t be any happier, the two droids returned with the twins, declared them in excellent health despite having been born a few weeks prematurely, and placed them both in Padmé’s arms. Padmé gasped as she held their children for the first time, and her face broke out into the widest, truest smile Anakin had ever seen from her.

“They’re—they’re beautiful,” she said, sounding choked up.

Anakin beamed and put one arm around her, the other moving to cradle the twins with her. “They are.”

Eventually he managed to persuade Padmé to let him have a turn holding the girl. She was no longer crying, and she looked up at Anakin inquisitively with Padmé’s brown eyes. “Hi there,” Anakin said softly, bending down to kiss her forehead and smiling when she flailed her arms and accidentally hit him in the face with her tiny fist. “Clearly, she has your personality.”

Padmé laughed. “Oh no, that’s all you.”

“So we never talked about names…” Anakin realized a moment later.

“I had some in mind,” Padmé said. “Luke and Leia.”

Normally Anakin would’ve been annoyed that she had, as usual, made an important decision without bothering to ask his opinion on the matter, but now he was so happy to have his family all together and safe that he just smiled. “Luke and Leia sound perfect,” he said.

Then a few minutes later, the peace inside the medbay was disturbed as Rex rushed in. They all turned to look at him. “The Emperor—” he gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. “The Emperor is dead!”

Padmé looked astonished, and the handmaidens glanced sideways at Anakin. Anakin’s stomach jolted at the confirmation of what he’d already known to be true.

He dropped to his knees at Padmé’s bedside, Leia still in his arms. “Long live the Empress,” he said.

The handmaidens and Rex all knelt too. “Long live the Empress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like some good ol' Force Ex Machina to save the day! I know nothing about how the Force works so I pretty much made up all the Force shenanigans in this chapter


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch - only a couple more chapters left after this one! Realistically the political situation would probably be way more complicated than I've shown it in this chapter, and I probably tied up those loose ends much too neatly. But tbh my primary interest in this fic was always Anakin and Padme's relationship, with the Political Things and the Actual Plot as sort of an afterthought (and I suspect many of you readers may feel the same way lmao), not to mention that I don't know anywhere near enough about regular politics, let alone intergalactic politics, to spend much time on or go into much detail about it. So hopefully you won't mind if I've wrapped the Political Things up too quickly (although a fair amount of time DOES pass within this chapter even if the narrative moves quickly through it)

The galaxy’s news outlets were in an uproar as news of Padmé’s kidnapping and rescue, Luke and Leia’s birth, and Palpatine’s death all broke at the same time. The official statement was that Palpatine had died of natural causes. Most people believed it because he _had_ been quite old, and the ones who suspected foul play were too frightened of the new empress to accuse her of anything.

They burned Palpatine’s body, ostensibly because it was tradition on his home planet of Naboo, but really it was so that nobody would see the grotesque, hollowed-out husk he’d become when Anakin had drained all the life force out of him and left nothing but Darkness behind.

He explained everything to Padmé a several days later, once she’d rested up and they had a moment’s peace among all the political turmoil she had to handle. They were sitting in the brand-new nursery within the royal apartments, Luke in Anakin’s arms and Leia in Padmé’s. Padmé and the twins had been kept in the medbay for monitoring for a few days, and all three of them had been released that morning with clean bills of health. Not that Padmé being confined to the medbay had prevented her from dealing with important imperial business.

“So…Palpatine’s life force is inside me now?” Padmé said, looking revolted, after she’d heard Anakin’s tale.

“Yes, but it’s not like that,” Anakin said. “It’s the exact same Living Force that runs through every sentient being in the galaxy, every living thing. The Living Force inside Palpatine was the same as what was already inside you, I just borrowed some of it.”

Padmé thought about this for a few minutes. “Will I have Force powers or something now?” she asked. “Because he did?”

Anakin paused. Would Palpatine’s high midichlorian count have transferred over to Padmé, or did Anakin keep that out along with the Darkness inside him? He reached out for Padmé in the Force, trying to sense if anything was different. “You feel the same to me in the Force as you did before,” he said. “But I don’t know what might happen. I don’t know of any situation like this that’s happened before. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

They were quiet for a little while. “The handmaidens really wanted to sacrifice themselves for me?” Padmé said eventually.

Anakin nodded. “Every single one of them.”

She shook her head in amazement, looking a little tearful. “They’re too loyal for their own good.”

Anakin shrugged. “You’re just someone that anybody would consider themselves lucky to die for,” he said without thinking. He immediately felt his cheeks heat up, and Padmé looked a little pink too.

“You saved my life,” she said next. “Me and the twins, you saved all of us.”

“Sabé and Rex—”

“Have told me that all three of us would certainly be dead without you,” Padmé interrupted, her expression open as she gazed at him. “Thank you, Anakin. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Anakin said, blushing harder and looking down at Luke to avoid her eyes. Then he thought of something. “Would it be possible…do you know where Palpatine kept my lightsaber? And if so, could I have it back? When we were rescuing you I was wishing I had it with me the whole time, I’d feel so much better if I could have it by my side at all times in case I need to protect you and the twins again.”

“Yes, I know where it is,” Padmé said. “And of course you can have it back. I trust you not to murder me with it now.” They both smiled. “That reminds me, I just told Rex this morning to remove the Stormtroopers from Tatooine who were watching Owen and Beru. They’re safe now, and free to go anywhere in the galaxy. If you’d like to send them a message—”

“I might go visit them instead,” Anakin said. “Explaining everything in person is the least I can do after I put them in danger.”

Padmé nodded, and they fell into another silence as they watched Leia sleeping and Luke clutching tightly onto Anakin’s index finger. “Which one of them is your heir, technically?” Anakin asked. “I mean, which would inherit the throne after you?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Padmé said. “I was thinking I’d wait until they’re older to decide, that way I can see who would have a better mind for it. Ruling the galaxy isn’t easy, you know.”

Anakin chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

* * *

_“I, Padmé Naberrie Amidala, Empress of the First Galactic Empire, hereby declare that from this day forth, slavery is outlawed on every planet under the Empire’s jurisdiction. At this very moment, all slaves are now free and citizens of the Empire. A former slave may continue working for their former master for a fair wage if they both wish it, otherwise the master must give the slave a stipend of money so that they will be able to support themselves until they find a paying job elsewhere. If a master cannot afford to give the stipend to their slave, both parties should seek an audience with an imperial official in their community to discuss the matter. The Empire is willing and able to provide financial support to former slaves when necessary._

_“Any being in the Empire who is found to own slaves or to participate in the buying or selling of them after one month from today will be fined and sentenced to prison for up to five years. After six months or more from today, the fine will be double and the prison sentence up to ten years. Though I do not have the authority to dictate what happens on planets outside the Empire’s jurisdiction, know that starting today, the Empire has a strict anti-slavery policy and will not deal kindly with outside planets who continue to participate in the slave market.”_

Anakin was spending the flight to Tatooine by watching a holorecording of Padmé’s recent speech in the Senate for the dozenth time. Though nothing could quite compare to the exhilaration of watching it in person the first time, all the subsequent times rewatching recordings of it brought a wide smile to his face. True to her word, this had been the very first thing she’d done after she’d finished dealing with the fallout of Palpatine’s death and her ascension to the throne. Palpatine’s former advisors had been aghast and insisted the economy would collapse, so Padmé had gotten rid of them all and replaced them with a new set of her own choosing. Advisors of multiple species from all over the Empire rather than Palpatine’s council of Core World humans.

Artoo chirped at Anakin, interrupting his thoughts. “All right, thanks, buddy,” Anakin said, and he moved back to the pilot’s seat to drop out of hyperspace.

It wasn’t long before Anakin was landing outside the Lars moisture farm. He had let Owen and Beru know he would be coming so they wouldn’t be alarmed to see an imperial ship landing in their front yard, and they were both outside waiting to greet him when he disembarked from the ship, Artoo following behind him.

Without a word, Anakin strode over to them and enveloped them both in a hug. “You’re all right,” he said. “You’re both all right.”

“’Course we’re all right,” Owen said, sounding surprised. “It’s you we’ve been worried about. Once we heard the Empire’d got you—”

“Everything’s fine now,” Anakin said. “Palpatine’s dead, and Padmé wants to do right by the galaxy. You have nothing to fear from the Empire anymore.”

They led him inside and the three of them sat down with glasses of blue milk to talk. Anakin explained to them everything that had happened to him since he’d last seen them, which took quite a while—including the fact that they’d had Stormtroopers watching them for the better part of two years.

“We didn’t even know,” Beru said, eyes wide. “The Empire was watching us this whole time?”

“Yes,” Anakin said. He was relieved to know they hadn’t known about it, hadn’t been living in constant fear, but he still felt horribly guilty. “And I am so sorry. I put you both in danger, if I’d made even the tiniest slip-up you could’ve been killed—”

“It’s not your fault,” Owen said, shaking his head. “It was Amidala who was threatening you and us. But I thought you said you supported her as empress?”

Anakin nodded, and he continued on with the rest of his tale. How Padmé had only kidnapped him because she wanted his help assassinating Palpatine, how she was already working hard to right all his wrongs and make the galaxy a safe place to live again, how she had removed all imperial surveillance from the moisture farm. How he trusted her now.

“But obviously I understand if you don’t feel the same way about her as I do,” Anakin finished. “Which is why I came to give you some credits so that you could leave Tatooine if you wanted, go somewhere far away where the Empire won’t know where you are. I won’t tell Padmé where you’ve gone, I swear it. You don’t even have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Owen and Beru turned to look at each other, considering it. “We _have_ always wanted to get out of here,” Beru admitted. “It’s a hard life.”

“But Tatooine is our home,” Owen added. “We grew up here, we met here, we got married here. My father and Shmi are both buried here.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to. I promise you you’ll be safe here,” Anakin said. He pulled the bag of credits out of his pocket and pushed it across the table towards them. “But I want you to have this anyway, in case you change your minds.”

Beru opened the bag and her eyes widened. “Anakin, this is far too much, we can’t possibly accept—”

“Please,” Anakin said. “I insist. Consider it a very belated repayment for everything you did for me when I first came here after the Jedi purge.”

They talked all day and evening and Anakin spent the night there. After Owen and Beru had gone to bed, Anakin wandered outside and over towards Shmi’s grave. He knelt down in front of it.

“Hi, Mom. I miss you,” he said softly. “You probably already know this, but you have two grandchildren now. Their names are Luke and Leia, and they’re just perfect…”

He spent a long time talking to her about the twins, about everything that had happened to him. He didn’t know if she could hear him, wherever she was, but it felt good to get everything off his chest like this.

“I’m not that same little boy I was when I left Tatooine, or even the Jedi I was when I came back for you,” Anakin said at last. “But…I think you would be proud of me if you saw me today. Or at least, I hope you would. I love you, Mom.”

Owen and Beru offered to have him stay for a few days, but Anakin didn’t want to spend any more time away from Luke and Leia, so he prepared to leave the next morning. “Before you go, there’s an old friend of yours around here somewhere,” Owen said, going back into the house.

Anakin waited outside, puzzled, but he broke out into a smile when Owen reemerged followed by— “C-3PO!”

“Master Ani?” the droid said, waddling over to him and looking as shocked as a droid could look. “Oh, my! The Maker has returned at last!”

“Shmi wouldn’t hear of us getting rid of him, I think because he reminded her of you, and we didn’t have the heart to do it after she died either,” Owen said. “But he’s been powered down and away in storage for years now. I gotta be honest, he’s more of a hindrance around here than anything.”

Threepio seemed to swell indignantly. “A hindrance? Sir, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication—”

“Which isn’t something we really need on a moisture farm,” Owen interrupted, grinning. “But I thought maybe you could use him back on Coruscant, since you’re a politician and all now.”

 _“I’m_ not a politician,” Anakin said with a laugh. “But I think my wife would like him, she’s been saying she needs a protocol droid to help with all her work nowadays.”

Anakin and Artoo spent the flight back getting to know Threepio, and by the time they finally reached Coruscant, Anakin had admitted to himself that he may not have known exactly what he was doing as a child when he gave Threepio the personality of a fussy old grandmother. But still, it was nice to have something that reminded him of Shmi.

When he arrived, Padmé was in the nursery playing with the twins. “How was Tatooine?” she asked.

Anakin approached to give both twins a kiss. For a second some impulse made him want to kiss Padmé too, but he quickly squashed it down. “It was good,” he said. “I brought you something.” He beckoned Threepio over. “This is C-3PO, a protocol droid who is fluent in over six million forms of communication. Threepio, this is my wife Padmé Naberrie Amidala, Empress of the First Galactic Empire.”

“Empress?!” Threepio said, sounding aghast. “Master Ani, you neglected to tell me I would be presented to such fine company today! Oh, My Lady, I do apologize profusely for my appearance, it is most unbecoming—”

“It’s nice to meet you, Threepio,” Padmé said, looking like she was suppressing a laugh. “Don’t worry about your appearance, I’m sure you’re a fine droid who will be a valuable assistant to me. But if it bothers you that much, how would you feel about…hmm…maybe gold plating?”

“Gold plating? It would be an honor, My Lady, nothing less would be fitting of a servant of the Empress.”

“That’s settled, then. Wherever did you find him?” she asked Anakin.

“I made him, actually,” he said. “When I was nine. Owen and Beru kept him for me all these years.”

“You made a _droid_ when you were _nine?_ What else don’t I know about you?”

Anakin grinned. “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

* * *

Padmé’s official coronation took place a few weeks later. A huge number of guests was invited, mostly diplomats but Padmé’s family was there as well, and the throne room was packed full during the ceremony. Anakin sat right up front with one twin in each arm and all the handmaidens sitting on either side of him, and he felt like he could burst with pride as he watched Padmé being crowned Empress.

Once all the dust had settled from the transition of power, Padmé set about negotiating peace with the Rebels. At first they wouldn’t hear of it, but as Padmé did more and more to undo all the damage Palpatine had caused the galaxy and as she implemented reforms to make the Senate more powerful and more democratic, they started coming around. At last Rebel leaders Bail Organa and Mon Mothma agreed to meet with Padmé on Coruscant to discuss a peace treaty.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to negotiate with the people who almost killed you and the twins,” Anakin muttered.

Padmé gave him a stern look. “An end to this constant warfare is in the people’s best interests. I don’t want our citizens to be living in fear of Rebel attacks any more than I want them to be living in fear of exploitation and abuse by the Empire,” she said. “The Rebels’ personal slights to me don’t matter.”

“I’d call nearly torturing you to death a lot more than a _personal slight,_ but I suppose as only Emperor _Consort_ my input doesn’t matter.” In all honesty Anakin was relieved to not be the actual Emperor—he hated politics and all Padmé’s Empress duties and responsibilities seemed like a nightmare—but the title of Emperor Consort made him feel like a bit of a trophy husband. Which, he supposed, he really was.

“Oh, hush, you know I value your advice,” Padmé said. “It’s just that in this instance you’re wrong.”

Negotiating peace was a long, arduous process. Anakin wasn’t involved—he spent most of his time in the royal apartments looking after the twins—but Padmé would update him about their progress when she came home every night. There were many days when she left in the morning before he was awake and didn’t return until long after he’d fallen asleep.

But finally, after months of discussions had gone by, they settled on terms and the end of the negotiations was in sight. For appearances’ sake, Padmé brought Anakin along to the official signing of the treaty. Anakin stepped into the conference room and froze as he saw who was there among the Rebel delegation: Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

How long had they been on Coruscant? How had he not sensed their presence? Why hadn’t Padmé told him they were here? Anakin locked eyes with both of them, but then Padmé was glancing over her shoulder to look for him and he hastily followed her to her seat at the head of the table.

Many HoloNet reporters were there to cover the momentous occasion, some filming and others furiously taking notes on holopads. “The signing of this treaty marks an end to all hostilities between the Empire and the Rebel Alliance,” Padmé said solemnly. “May we henceforth work together to make the galaxy a better place, rather than fighting against each other.”

She signed first. There was a digital copy on a holopad as well as a more ceremonial copy on a piece of flimsi. Bail Organa and Mon Mothma signed too, and with that, with such a simple gesture, the war was over.

Padmé formally invited the Rebel delegation to a feast in their honor that evening in the palace, and then everyone dispersed. Anakin glanced at her, silently asking permission to leave without her, and she nodded.

He darted out into the corridor, hoping to catch Obi-Wan and Ahsoka before they left. He spotted them just turning the corner at the far end, and he hurried after them. “Ahsoka!” he called. “Obi-Wan!”

They turned and saw him, and to his relief they stopped to wait for him. Once he reached them, Anakin realized he didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t realize you’ve been here this whole time,” he said after an awkward moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t think you would want to see us,” Ahsoka said. She, at least, looked tentatively happy to see him, but Obi-Wan was carefully staring at a point over Anakin’s head.

“Of course I would’ve. You’re my best friends. Still,” Anakin said. He took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about—what happened the last time we saw each other. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just…lost control—”

Obi-Wan finally looked at him. “You used the Dark Side, Anakin,” he said.

“I know, and that time I didn’t mean to, but since then I’ve realized something,” Anakin said. “The Jedi always said that if you opened yourself up to the Dark Side, you’d never be able to return. But that’s not true. It’s possible to use the Dark Side without letting it control you, I’ve done it.”

And he launched into an explanation of how he’d used the Dark Side to save Padmé’s life. Both of them looked astonished when he finished. “But that’s—no one’s ever done that before,” Ahsoka said in a hushed voice. “Have they?”

“Not that I know of,” said Obi-Wan, who also looked warily impressed. “Bringing someone back from the brink of death…I always thought that was no more than a Sith legend. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Neither did I, but I did it,” Anakin said. “And I think it’s because it’s _not_ a Dark Side power, not fully anyway, and it’s not a Light one either. I had to use both. No Jedi would kill someone to save a person they care about, but no Sith would love anyone but themselves enough to want to save them from dying. It’s both selfish and selfless. Dark and Light. Balance. _That’s_ what the prophecy about the Chosen One meant. There can’t continue to be Jedi and Sith opposing each other, there has to be a—some sort of new order, where people learn to use the Light Side and the Dark Side of the Force together, in harmony with each other.”

Obi-Wan looked alarmed, Ahsoka intrigued. “What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying that I want to start that new order,” Anakin said boldly. It was something he’d been thinking about for months now, but had never said out loud before. “Think about it. Obviously the Sith had the wrong idea, but you both know the Jedi Order had its flaws too. I think—I think everyone has both the Dark and the Light inside them, and a true Force user ought to learn to control both of them. I’ve felt so much more at peace with myself now that I’ve done that, instead of when I was a Jedi always terrified of the Darkness I felt inside me.”

“A new order…” Ahsoka murmured, looking thoughtful. She glanced at Obi-Wan a little guiltily and said, “You know…I think I might have left the Jedi Order if things had been different. Before the Jedi purge, I was starting to realize that I didn’t feel like I belonged there. That I didn’t agree with everything the Order stood for. So…I think I agree with you, Skyguy. We can’t go back to the old ways, they’ve been proven not to work. We have to try something new.”

Anakin smiled at her, relieved. “So you’ll help me?”

Ahsoka took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said tentatively, looking over at his former master.

Obi-Wan was frowning, though he seemed more conflicted than genuinely unhappy. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if I agree with you about training a new generation of Force users in the Dark Side as well as the Light, that seems like it can only end badly.”

“Not if we teach them to control it from a young age,” Anakin argued. “You can’t Fall if the Dark Side has always been a part of you that you understand how to deal with. It’s only when people who’ve had no experience with the Dark Side are exposed to it all at once that they become consumed by it.”

“You might be right. Or you might be wrong,” Obi-Wan said. “Though…perhaps the Order’s old way of doing things could be improved. Qui-Gon always thought the Council was…rather antiquated in their methods.”

“I’m going to try,” Anakin said determinedly. “And if you change your mind someday and decide you want to help, you know where to find me.”

Obi-Wan nodded. And then, he gave Anakin the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said simply. “After everything that’s happened.”

Anakin smiled back. “I’m glad you’re alive too.”

* * *

During the feast that night, Anakin was seated beside Padmé for dinner, with Bail Organa and Mon Mothma on her other side. The three leaders spent most of the meal discussing plans for the future while Anakin was quiet; he was relieved, and more than a little surprised, to see that the three of them appeared to get on quite well. Unless they were just _really_ good at keeping up the pretense of diplomacy.

But towards the end of the meal, the conversation took a more personal turn. “My Lady, I would like to sincerely apologize for the attempt on your life many months ago,” Bail said. “In the interest of our new alliance—and, I hope, friendship—I want you to know that your kidnapping was unauthorized by Senator Mothma or myself and carried out without our knowledge. We’d always wanted to fight this war cleanly and honorably, but there were some among the Rebel Alliance who felt differently.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t tell if Bail was being sincere in his sorrow over the event or just trying to suck up to Padmé and cover his own ass. “Thank you for saying that, Senator,” Padmé said with a small smile. “Those Rebels who felt differently…are you referring to the extremist faction you mentioned during negotiations?”

“Saw Gerrera’s faction, yes,” Mon Mothma said, nodding. “They were the ones behind your kidnapping. And I fear they may continue to cause the galaxy trouble for a while longer, given that they splintered off when they found out that we planned to negotiate with you. They don’t consider themselves bound by this peace treaty.”

“But they are truly a small minority,” Bail added. “With the vast majority of the Rebel Alliance agreeing that peace is in the galaxy’s best interests, they have very little power now. I’m confident it won’t be long until we are able to bring the last of them to justice, or until they simply give up the fight.”

Padmé said something else then, but Anakin was too busy mulling over this new information he’d learned about her kidnapping. “What about the Jedi?” he said suddenly, speaking for only the fourth or fifth time in the entire conversation.

Mon turned to him. “Pardon, My Lord?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano. They were there, when I came to rescue Padmé,” he said. “Were they part of the kidnapping attempt too?”

“No, they knew nothing about it either,” Bail said. “We sent them to investigate the situation as soon as we got wind of what had happened.”

Anakin got quiet again, and after dinner was over and he’d opened up the dancing with Padmé, he excused himself and went to find Obi-Wan and Ahsoka again. They were standing by themselves, with another small group of Rebels not too far away; the Rebels and imperials alike seemed uncertain about mingling with each other even though their leaders were doing their best to set a good example.

“You weren’t behind the kidnapping,” Anakin said without preamble when he reached them.

“What?” Ahsoka said.

“When Padmé was kidnapped. You weren’t involved,” he said. “Bail Organa told me he only sent you to investigate after the fact.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Obi-Wan said rather uncertainly.

“Then why did you try to kill her?” Anakin said, speaking mostly to Obi-Wan. “If you were there to defuse the situation on behalf of someone who thought kidnapping Padmé was wrong, why did you try to kill her?”

Obi-Wan sighed and was quiet for a moment. “I had no intention of killing her at that moment, and I apologize if I made you think otherwise. Tensions were running high and we were both quick to assume the worst about each other’s motives, I think,” he said. “But…I did believe it would be foolish to let her go since she’d been captured. I planned to take her into custody and bring her back to Senators Organa and Mothma to be dealt with. And if they’d decided she merited execution, I would hardly have been upset about that.”

Anakin considered this for a minute. He realized that although Obi-Wan had certainly been ready for a fight, and although he clearly hadn’t wanted Anakin to escape with Padmé, and although he hadn’t seemed bothered by the prospect of her death…he hadn’t _actually_ tried to kill her on the spot or said that he intended to, merely tried to prevent her escape. Perhaps Anakin _had_ been too quick to assume he wanted to kill her, just as Obi-Wan had been too quick to assume that Anakin had been brainwashed by the Empire and the Dark Side.

“And now?” Anakin said finally. “Do you agree that this peace treaty was the right course of action? The senators were saying there’s an extremist faction—”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Prolonging violence when there is a good opportunity for peace is not the Jedi way,” he said. “And besides, now that the Empress is restoring freedom and justice to the galaxy…I can’t say I see a reason to rebel against her the way we did against Palpatine.”

At last Anakin’s face relaxed into a smile. “I was _trying_ to tell you that day that Padmé would be different—”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, looking a little sheepish. “I’m sorry that I refused to listen to your point of view, or give you a chance to explain.”

“Me too,” piped up Ahsoka, who had been keeping quiet thus far to allow Anakin and Obi-Wan to hash out the issue themselves. “I see now that you were right about her. Well, unless she’s just lulling us all into a false sense of security and plans to pull a Palpatine later on.”

“I highly doubt that,” Anakin said. “But if she does then I give you both permission to say ‘I told you so’ as many times as you want.”

He and Ahsoka laughed and even Obi-Wan gave a small chuckle, and Anakin spent the rest of the evening catching up properly with his old friends at last.


	15. Chapter 15

In the following months, Anakin and Ahsoka were hard at work laying out plans for the new order they wanted to create. Obi-Wan was still dubious about the idea, but he still kept in touch with the two of them and seemed cautiously interested whenever they discussed their plans in front of him. Anakin believed he’d agree to help them eventually—Obi-Wan had always clung to the Jedi ideals much more stubbornly than Anakin or Ahsoka ever had, and it would take him longer to admit that they could be improved upon than it had taken the other two. But if his Force vision from all those months ago was any indication, he was confident Obi-Wan would come around in the end.

Ahsoka came to visit Anakin at the palace nearly every day and got on wonderfully with the twins; she and Anakin talked of taking them on as students when they were older, though both decided that their order would wait until Force-sensitives were old enough to choose for themselves if they wanted to be trained, rather than the Jedi Order and their parents making the decision for them when they were only babies. Ahsoka also agreed with Anakin that they shouldn’t be cut off from their families after coming to Coruscant to train, and that emotional attachments shouldn’t be forbidden.

Within a month, Padmé graciously allowed Ahsoka to move into the palace permanently at Anakin’s request. Padmé and Ahsoka didn’t spend much time together and seemed a little suspicious of each other at first, but with Anakin playing middleman between them, they gradually began to warm to each other. Ahsoka even started joining the four Amidalas for family dinners on the evenings when Padmé didn’t have guests or diplomats visiting.

Anakin wasn’t entirely sure what the nature of his and Padmé’s relationship was. Legally they were husband and wife, but in practice it felt more like they were friendly colleagues who happened to have children together. They hadn’t slept together since Padmé had first gotten pregnant, nor had they even so much as exchanged a kiss. Anakin cared deeply about her and he thought she cared about him too, but beyond that, it was all rather confusing.

One day when the twins were ten months old, the queen of Zygerria, Miraj Scintel, arrived on Coruscant to meet with Padmé. “She’s been trying to set up a meeting with me ever since I outlawed slavery, but I’ve been making up excuses to avoid it as long as possible,” Padmé told Anakin grimly as they headed down to the palace hangar to meet her ship. Scintel was getting the full imperial welcome; even Luke and Leia had been put into the fancy clothes they only wore for public appearances.

“Zygerria was a slave empire,” Anakin recalled. “One of the biggest in the Empire. In the _galaxy.”_

“Yes. And I doubt Miraj Scintel is pleased that I’ve deprived her of her planet’s biggest export.”

Anakin eyed the queen distastefully as she disembarked from her ship, though Padmé greeted her with the utmost politeness. Then she introduced Anakin and the twins, and Anakin shifted uncomfortably as Scintel’s attention moved to him.

“Lord Amidala.” She politely inclined her head, a gesture Anakin returned. Then she gave him a smile that made Anakin feel like he was a mouse and she a cat about to pounce on him. “I can see where the prince and princess get their good looks.”

Anakin felt his face turn bright red. “Um…thank you,” he mumbled, darting a sideways glance at Padmé. Her expression was as friendly as ever, though Anakin could swear he detected a hint of something colder in it.

“Lunch is prepared, if you would care to join us,” Padmé said. “I thought you might be hungry after your long journey.”

“How thoughtful. Lunch sounds lovely.”

Half the handmaidens returned upstairs with Luke and Leia while Anakin followed Padmé and Scintel into the dining room with the rest of the handmaidens trailing behind. The formal dining room on the ground floor of the palace was laughably big for only the three of them, but Anakin was suddenly glad they weren’t hosting Scintel in their private dining room upstairs.

Padmé made small talk with her for a while, asking if her journey had been pleasant, while Anakin quietly ate his food. Then, after a lull in the conversation, Scintel waved a hand at Padmé’s japor snippet necklace. “My Lady, what a…quaint necklace,” she said, and Anakin bristled at the derisive undercurrent in her tone.

Padmé touched it briefly before dropping her hand again. “Thank you,” she said calmly. “It was a wedding gift from Anakin. He carved it himself.”

That made Scintel suddenly change her tune. She turned to face Anakin and smiled that predatory smile again. “Oh, how marvelous,” she said. “You must be very good with your hands, My Lord.”

Padmé nearly choked on her wine, and Anakin flushed deeply yet again. “I-I suppose,” he stammered.

“Your wife is a very lucky woman,” Scintel said, practically batting her eyes at him.

“Yes, very lucky,” Padmé said, saving Anakin from having to respond. To his relief, she changed the subject and skillfully kept Scintel’s attention off him for the rest of the meal, though even so Anakin could feel her gaze burning into him whenever Padmé wasn’t looking. And sometimes when she was.

He was all too glad to depart back to their rooms and leave Padmé to begin her meetings with Scintel in private. Aside from meals, Anakin did a pretty good job avoiding her for the next several days. Until the fourth night.

Anakin had been in Ahsoka’s rooms until much later than usual due to a disagreement over some minutiae of founding a new order of Force users. But they’d come to a compromise that pleased both of them, so Anakin was in a good mood as he finally headed back to his own rooms, yawning profusely.

“You’re out late, My Lord.”

Anakin jumped about a mile and whirled around to see Miraj Scintel standing there. “As are you,” he said once he’d recovered himself.

“I couldn’t sleep and decided to go for a walk. How fortunate that I’ve run into you.”

Fortunate? More like Anakin’s worst nightmare. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m really quite tired—”

“I wonder where you’ve been tonight,” Scintel interrupted, prowling closer towards him. “Not with your wife?”

“I was spending time with a friend,” Anakin said carefully. “Padmé is quite busy.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that while I’ve been here.” There was a smirk playing about her lips. “Too busy to make time for you, it would seem.”

“Pardon me?”

“Well, it’s no wonder you spend your nights visiting _friends,”_ Scintel said, sarcasm dripping off the last word, “when your own wife won’t spare you any attention.”

Anakin frowned. “I fail to see what you’re implying. Padmé is the Galactic Empress, there are a million things vying for her time that are more important than me—”

“Ah, but she is still a wife, is she not? I must say, if you were _my_ husband, I would make _sure_ to make time for you, regardless of how many other matters needed my attention.”

Anakin could hardly believe his ears. “Your Highness, this is not at all appropriate—” he spluttered.

Scintel had now backed him into the wall, and she leaned in very close to him. “Oh please, My Lord,” she purred. “There’s no need to pretend that your marriage is anything other than a political sham. It’s frightfully obvious, after seeing the two of you together in person. So distant. So aloof. Has she even touched you since her heirs were conceived?”

“Your _Highness_ —”

“I thought not.” Scintel put a hand on his chest, and Anakin really could not believe this was actually happening. “Even I can tell that the Empress is a cold woman, My Lord, and I’m not the one married to her. Does she really give you what you want?” She started trailing her hand down his torso. “What you need?”

Finally Anakin threw all pretenses of decorum out the window and forcefully shoved her off him. “Padmé and I are very happy,” he snapped. “Touch me again and you’ll have a lightsaber in your ribs faster than you can blink.”

And he angrily stalked away, Scintel’s soft laughter ringing in his ears.

Anakin silently cursed himself for insisting to Rabé and Eirtaé that it was quite unnecessary for them to accompany him to Ahsoka’s rooms that evening. _It’s only a few corridors away, I’m hardly going to get attacked on the way there or back._ Little had he known.

His luck was about to get even worse: when he returned to their rooms, Padmé was sitting on the sofa waiting for him. Anakin stopped short as he saw her. “What are you doing up?”

“Where have you been?” Padmé asked, getting up from the sofa and moving towards him.

“What?”

“I had to work much later than usual tonight and thought you’d surely be asleep by the time I got back, so imagine my surprise when I arrived and you were out. What have you been up to?”

“Uh…” Anakin debated for only a split second whether to tell her what had happened before deciding against it; Scintel would be leaving again in another few days, and there was no point upsetting Padmé when hardly anything _had_ happened. “I was with Ahsoka and lost track of time.”

“Really? Because Ahsoka stopped by a few minutes ago, and you were not with her.” Padmé’s tone had suddenly dropped several degrees.

“What?”

“She was looking for you, actually. Said you forgot this in her rooms when you left almost half an hour ago.” Padmé handed him back his datapad. “Surely it didn’t take you half an hour to make your way back here.”

“Um…I went for a little walk first,” Anakin fibbed, not quite sure why he didn’t admit defeat and tell the truth. Perhaps subconsciously he feared Padmé wouldn’t believe him. “Out in the gardens. I wanted some fresh air.”

Padmé raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Because you look awfully hot and bothered for somebody who was just strolling outside in the cool evening air.”

Anakin quickly smoothed out his tunic, which had gotten rumpled when Scintel had pushed him up against the wall, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything about the flush he still felt all over his face. “Uh—”

“Give Miraj Scintel my regards,” Padmé said coldly, and she turned on her heel and strode off to her own bedroom with her head held high, deaf to Anakin’s protests.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was an incredibly awkward affair. Padmé and Anakin had arrived separately, as she’d already left their rooms by the time Anakin had woken up, and Anakin couldn’t exactly explain to her what had _really_ happened the night before with Scintel sitting right there. Anakin was trying to avoid her eyes and catch Padmé’s, while Padmé was doing her best to ignore him. Scintel looked thoroughly amused by the situation.

“Your Highness, I have good news,” Padmé said towards the end of the meal. “I’ve sent a request to the Banking Clan as we discussed, and they’re sending my dear friend Rush Clovis here to talk with us about the possibility of a loan to help the Zygerrian economy back on its feet.”

“Rush Clovis? Isn’t her your ex?” Anakin blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Padmé said tartly. Turning back to Scintel, she added, “He’s also the member of the Banking Clan that I trust most, which is why I asked for him specifically. He should arrive tomorrow.”

“Wonderful,” Scintel said. “And very generous of you, My Lady, thank you.”

“Why are you asking the Banking Clan to help slaver scum?” Anakin hissed to Padmé as they left breakfast (Scintel had gone off in the opposite direction to her own room). “Just let Zygerria rot.”

“For every slaver on Zygerria, there’s a dozen innocent people who had nothing to do with the slave trade and are still suffering due to the planet-wide economic collapse,” Padmé said. “Besides, we just got finished with a war, do you really want another one? Do you want Zygerria to reinstitute the slave trade behind our backs in an attempt to regain their prosperity? I’m obligated to do what I can to aid Miraj Scintel, regardless of my personal feelings towards her.”

“But—”

“But nothing. If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” Padmé abruptly veered down a side corridor that led towards her office, leaving Anakin glaring after her.

Anakin’s bad mood and uneasiness only doubled the next morning when Clovis arrived, the imperial greeting contingent sent out to the hangar again to meet him. Anakin tugged at the scratchy collar of his tunic, wondering if the twins were as uncomfortable in their formal clothes as he was. They seemed fine, at least; Leia was curiously yanking on his cybernetic fingers while Luke in Sabé’s arms was gazing inquisitively at his surroundings.

Padmé had both hands free so that she could greet Clovis when he disembarked from his ship and approached them. “Senator Clovis, how lovely to see you,” she said, smiling at him with a warmth that made Anakin’s stomach churn with jealousy. “I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation to Coruscant.”

“My Lady, it’s an honor as always,” Clovis said, taking her offered hand and kissing it. Anakin tried not to scowl.

“May I introduce you to my husband and our children?”

Clovis gave Anakin a small bow. “Lord Amidala, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Anakin said automatically, though he’d never been less pleased to meet anyone. Except maybe Padmé that day she’d taken him captive on Tatooine. He moved to extend his right hand for Clovis to shake, but then he saw that Leia had pulled a wire loose and now his hand was sparking and hissing as steam came out of it. _“Kriff—_ I mean, um, sorry, Leia must’ve done something to it—sorry—”

Padmé pursed her lips at his language. Clovis gave a polite chuckle, but not fast enough for Anakin to miss the brief flash of condescension on his face. “Ah, little ones,” he said. “Too curious for their own good.”

Rabé hurried over to take Leia from him and Anakin started fiddling with the wiring, but quickly stopped as he noticed the look Padmé was giving him. “Senator, allow me to show you to your room,” she said to Clovis, and as the whole group moved towards the palace’s main entrance she took Clovis’s proffered arm even though Anakin’s was also free.

Once they were inside, Padmé and Clovis turned down the left corridor. Anakin made to follow them, but Padmé stopped and look back at him. “Anakin, would you mind bringing Luke and Leia back upstairs? It’s time for their nap,” she said. “We’ll see you at dinner.”

Anakin stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise at being so summarily dismissed. He didn’t at all care for the idea of leaving Padmé completely alone with Clovis to “show him to his room,” but he didn’t dare disobey her. So instead he turned down the right-hand corridor with the twins and half the handmaidens. The other half did follow Padmé and Clovis, but that didn’t make him feel much better.

Anakin was late to dinner because he’d been putting Luke and Leia to bed, and when he walked into the room, Padmé and Clovis were laughing together at some joke which Scintel didn’t appear to be in on. “Lord Amidala,” said Clovis. “I’m glad you’re joining us.” He left _finally_ unsaid, but his tone made it clear enough.

“Forgive my lateness, I was putting the twins to bed,” Anakin said, taking the chair beside Clovis. Padmé was at the head of the table with Scintel and Clovis on either side of her; Anakin would’ve preferred to be at the other end of the table because this seating hierarchy made him feel like he was a level below Clovis and Scintel, but this was where the fourth place had been laid out.

“The handmaidens would have been happy to put them to bed for you,” Padmé said, also leaving her reprimand unsaid. Anakin hated politicians. Why couldn’t they just say what they meant?

“I like doing it myself,” he said rather shortly, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of water.

“No wine for you, My Lord?” Clovis asked, having a sip of wine himself.

“Oh, Anakin doesn’t like wine,” Padmé said before Anakin could answer. “Too bitter for him.”

“Understandable, I thought the same thing as a child,” Clovis said. Anakin was pretty sure Clovis was calling _him_ a child, and it took all his strength not to return his smile with a scowl. He wasn’t _that_ much younger than Clovis and Padmé.

“How are you enjoying Coruscant so far, Senator?” Anakin said politely, with some effort.

“I’ve been to Coruscant countless times, of course,” Clovis said rather dismissively, making Anakin feel stupid. “But this is the first time I’ve had the honor of staying at the palace. I must say, you have quite a lovely home.”

“Thank you,” Padmé said. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? We’ve been redecorating for several months.” To get rid of the gloomy atmosphere Palpatine had perpetuated with his interior décor.

“Very beautiful,” Clovis agreed. “Though the palace is not nearly as beautiful as its mistress.” He kissed Padmé’s hand again, and she laughed. Anakin stabbed his salad a bit harder than necessary, trying to ignore the _I told you so_ look Scintel was giving him.

As the meal went on, Anakin sorely wished he _did_ like wine because having to be sober while watching Clovis blatantly flirt with his wife—who did nothing to discourage his behavior—right in front of him was testing every last bit of his patience. After a few more attempts at small talk, Anakin more or less dropped out of the conversation entirely when it became clear that Padmé and Clovis would prefer to pretend he wasn’t there. Scintel was fairly quiet too, but her eyes were glittering with a malicious smugness throughout the meal.

Finally, they’d been finished eating for long enough that Anakin felt he could announce his wish to retire without being improper. “Goodnight, My Lord,” said Clovis. “I had a lovely meal, I do hope you’ll be joining us again tomorrow evening.”

 _Not if I can help it._ “I’m sure I will,” Anakin said. “Coming, Padmé?”

“Actually, I’d hoped to continue my negotiations with the queen and Senator Clovis for a little while before bed,” she said. “You go on, I won’t be long.”

 _Yeah, I’ll bet you’re having “negotiations” with him,_ Anakin thought sourly. “All right,” he said. “Goodnight, then.”

Rabé and Eirtaé followed him out. Anakin stomped upstairs without saying a word to either of them, feeling angry and humiliated. Clovis had spent the entire meal trying to make a fool of him, and Padmé had _let_ him. Anakin had thought she cared about him more than that, but apparently not. And she _still_ hadn’t let him speak privately with her long enough to explain the truth about what had (or rather, hadn’t) happened between him and Scintel. Sometimes he really hated how petty she could get when she was annoyed with someone. Another one of her politician’s quirks; Anakin would much prefer a straightforward shouting match to all this passive aggressiveness.

“Do you require anything before bed, My Lord?” Eirtaé asked once they’d arrived in the royal apartments.

“No,” Anakin said, so crossly that the handmaidens exchanged a look.

“My Lord, I’m about to speak out of turn and please forgive me if I’ve crossed a line,” Rabé began. “But…I thought the Empress’s behavior at dinner was quite inappropriate. Allowing Senator Clovis to flirt with her so openly while you were sitting right there.”

Eirtaé nodded in agreement. “I expected no better from him, we’ve all known him a while and he’s always been a shameless flirt,” she said. “But I’m surprised at her, it seemed out of character.”

“It’s my own fault. She’s under the impression that I’ve been having an affair with Miraj Scintel, and she’s trying to punish me,” Anakin said.

They both looked astonished. “You and—? My Lord, that’s absurd. Why would she think that?”

Anakin told them the whole story. “If she won’t listen to you, perhaps we could explain things to her,” Rabé said. “She might listen if it’s coming from us—”

“No, don’t bother,” Anakin said. “That would probably just make things worse. And I don’t want her to think I’m too much of a coward to talk to her myself.”

“Very well.”

Anakin hesitated a moment, wondering if he should voice the painful question that was in the back of his mind. “Is she…?” He cleared his throat and said quietly, “Is there anything between her and Clovis still? Does she still…have feelings for him?

“No, I don’t believe so,” Eirtaé said. “In fact, I never got the impression she had feelings for him even when they were together.”

So their relationship had been just physical, at least on Padmé’s part. Anakin didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. “Is she sleeping with him again, then?” he asked. “Just tell me the truth, I won’t tell her you told me.”

“She isn’t, My Lord, not that any of us knows of. And I’m sure we would know if she was, no one knows her daily movements like we do,” Rabé pointed out.

Well, that was something, at least. “Still, it’s probably only a matter of time,” Anakin said bitterly. “She never truly cared about me, I’ve always known that. She only married me because she wanted to use me. And I’ve let her.”

“That’s not true, My Lord,” Eirtaé protested. “She cares for you very much, I know she does. If she didn’t, why would she be upset at the thought that there’s something going on between you and another woman?”

Anakin was pretty sure it was just because she didn’t like the idea of someone stealing her husband, that it was a matter of possessiveness and her pride rather than any romantic affection for him specifically, but he appreciated the handmaidens’ attempts to make him feel better. He bid them goodnight and headed into his bedroom, where he did his best to fall asleep quickly so he wouldn’t have to know how late Padmé returned to their rooms. Or if she even did return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello miscommunication my old friend >:)


	16. Chapter 16

Clovis and Miraj Scintel ended up staying only another week, to Anakin’s relief, but every day of that week proceeded just as unpleasantly as the first few. Anakin was extremely glad to see the back of them both when they left to return to Scipio and Zygerria respectively—and he heard that their negotiations had been successful, which was also good news—but even so, the damage was done to Anakin and Padmé’s relationship.

She barely spoke to him unless it involved Luke and Leia, and Anakin was too angry at her behavior with Clovis to bother trying to explain that he despised Scintel and nothing had even remotely happened between them. Let Padmé think he’d been fucking some other queen behind her back. He didn’t care.

Still, a small foolish part of Anakin held out hope that they would soon reconcile—until one day a week later. Padmé summoned him to her office, which wasn’t too unusual an occurrence, but Anakin was surprised to see an unfamiliar Chagrian sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk.

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked as he took the chair beside the Chagrian.

The Chagrian cleared his throat importantly and pulled up several documents on his holopad. “Now that both parties are present, we can begin the divorce proceedings—”

 _“What?”_ Anakin said, so loudly that the Chagrian jumped and dropped his holopad. He whirled around to stare at Padmé, who looked utterly impassive. “You’re _divorcing_ me?”

She frowned at him, now looking confused. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Anakin gaped at her. “When did I ever say that?”

The Chagrian coughed, looking uncomfortable. “My Lady, perhaps I ought to wait outside until you have resolved this?”

“I think that would be best, thank you.” He hurried out, and Padmé turned back to Anakin. “I know you never wanted to marry me,” she said. “So now that Palpatine’s dead and we have the twins, I thought we could get divorced.”

“You mean, now that I’ve served my purpose, you’re throwing me out on the street like yesterday’s garbage?” Anakin demanded, hurt. “I suppose I’ll just—just go off and be a moisture farmer on Tatooine and never see my own children again while you go and marry Rush Clovis—”

“Don’t be absurd,” Padmé said impatiently. “I’m only divorcing you, not banishing you to Tatooine. You are free to remain on Coruscant if you wish, and I know the twins are just as much your children as mine, you’ll still spend time with them. And why in the galaxy would I want to marry Rush Clovis?”

“Oh please, I saw the way you were with him when he was here,” Anakin snapped. “Flirting with him right in front of me, acting like I didn’t even exist—”

“That’s rich, after you’d been gallivanting about with Miraj Scintel behind my back!” Padmé shot back. “At least I didn’t allow things with Clovis to move any farther than harmless flirting.”

“For the last kriffing time, _nothing happened!”_ Anakin said angrily.

“I caught you sneaking back into our rooms late at night after a secret tryst with her!”

“A _tryst?_ You want to know what really happened? I was walking back from Ahsoka’s alone and she ambushed me in the corridor,” Anakin said. “She started coming on to me and saying all this stuff about how she would satisfy me better than you did or whatever, and I told her I wasn’t interested. Then she tried to get physical, so I pushed her away and left. I looked all, how did you put it, _hot and bothered_ when I came back that night because I’d nearly been assaulted by a slaver queen!”

Padmé blinked at him. “Oh,” she said in a rather small voice. “That’s all that happened?”

 _“Yes,_ as I tried to tell you more than once, but you refused to listen. She flirted with me right in front of you a bunch of times, could you not tell that I had no interest whatsoever?”

“Well, I did notice—but I thought it was just you being your usual self,” Padmé said. “You always get flustered and tongue-tied when someone flirts with you—”

“I do not!”

“Your past behavior indicates that just because you don’t know how to respond to flirting doesn’t mean you’re not interested.”

Anakin spluttered indignantly, though he couldn’t actually argue with her. “You’re one of the few people who knows I was once a slave,” he said after a moment. “How could you even _think_ I would be attracted to someone who was the head of a slave empire?”

“I…oh,” Padmé said, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

“I wish it was that easy for _me_ to not think about,” Anakin said bitterly. “Anyway, I can’t believe you would invite Clovis here just to get back at me for— _not_ —having an affair with Scintel. You’re the Galactic Empress, I thought you were above being so petty and childish.”

Padmé scowled. “For your information, I did actually need a representative of the Banking Clan to join our negotiations, and I asked for Clovis because I knew he was still in love with me and would be more willing to give me whatever I asked for than another representative. The fact that his presence might make you jealous was just an added bonus.”

“He’s still in love with you?” Anakin said, horrified.

“Of course he is. He’s not exactly subtle about it.”

“But—are you—” Anakin took a deep breath, reminding himself that Rabé and Eirtaé had told him Padmé felt nothing for Clovis.. “You don’t have feelings for him, do you?”

“No,” she confirmed, to his relief. “He’s a pompous bastard and I can hardly stand him, why else do you think I ended my relationship with him in the first place?”

Anakin digested this in silence for a moment. Padmé cleared her throat. “I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions about what happened between you and Scintel,” she said. “And that she assaulted you. If I’d known that, I would’ve dealt much less kindly with her during our negotiations.”

“Well, you said it yourself. It’s better for your people that you reached a peaceful compromise with her, regardless of your personal feelings. The last thing we want is another war.”

She gave him a small smile. “I do believe you’re starting to get the hang of politics.”

Anakin smiled back, but it faded when Padmé said next, “Anyway, back to the divorce—”

“You still want a divorce?” Anakin said incredulously.

“Well, yes,” Padmé said. “It was something I was planning even before the mess with Scintel and Clovis.”

“But—I thought—” Anakin swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “I thought you cared about me,” he said, hating how his voice was shaking. “I know initially you only married me because you wanted to use me, but I thought after everything we’ve been through—”

“Of course I care about you,” Padmé cut him off, her eyes oddly shiny. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never wanted to marry me, I forced you into it,” she said. “I know you’re unhappy here, I know you’ve hated every minute of this life. So I’m not going to keep you chained up here any longer, I’m trying to give you your freedom back.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

“If this is about not seeing the twins, I already told you—”

“It’s not about the twins—well, it is, but it’s also about you,” Anakin said in a rush. “I don’t want to divorce you, I don’t want to leave, because I love you!”

He surprised even himself with the words, but as soon as they left his mouth, he knew them to be true. Now it was Padmé’s turn to gape. “What?” she said finally.

“I love you,” Anakin said again, much quieter. “I-I’m in love with you, Padmé.”

She looked utterly speechless. “You—you love me?”

“Yes.” He let out a soft little laugh. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

“But—but _I_ love _you,”_ she said.

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I love you, Anakin. That’s why I’m doing this,” Padmé said. “You know what they say, if you love someone, you have to let them go.”

“But that’s only if they _want_ to go,” Anakin pointed out. “And I don’t.”

“But you never wanted this,” she said again. “I married you against your will, you—you didn’t choose this marriage—”

“You’re right, I didn’t. Not at first,” Anakin said. “But I’m choosing it now, and I will continue to choose it every day for the rest of my life. I love you, Padmé, and you love me, so why in all the Sith hells should we divorce?”

“I just don’t feel right about our marriage because I threatened you into it in the first place,” Padmé said.

“Are you seriously going to go to the trouble of divorcing and remarrying me just for the symbolism of it? Force, you are _such_ a politician.”

Finally, she started to smile too. “This is really what you want?” she said. “To stay married? Even if it started out badly?”

“Yes, this is what I want. You, our marriage, our children, all of it.” Padmé was still seated, so Anakin moved to stand in front of her and took her hands. “This is what I want for the rest of my life.”

And before he could lose his nerve, he leaned down and kissed her square on the lips.

Padmé sighed contentedly into his mouth and Anakin wasted no time in deepening the kiss, feeling like there were fireworks going off in his brain. She tugged him closer, and he picked her up out of the chair and put her on top of her desk instead, kissing her still more passionately as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Padmé drew back and smirked at him. “Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she said.

“Probably both,” Anakin said sheepishly, and she laughed.

He dove back in for another kiss, soon moving down to kiss and suck on her neck, making her sigh with pleasure. “If I take this dress off,” he murmured against her skin, “will it be possible for it to go back on with only the two of us working on it, or are you going to need your entire team of handmaidens?”

Padmé laughed breathlessly. “This one’s fairly simple, we should be able to do it ourselves.”

“Good.”                                  

Anakin fumbled with the clasps in the back for a moment but finally managed to undo them, and he started pushing the dress down off her shoulders. “Anakin, wait, the window,” Padmé said, batting his hand away.

Indeed, her desk was right in front of a gigantic window that looked out over all of Coruscant. “I don’t care,” Anakin said, sucking lightly on her collarbone. “I don’t care if the whole planet sees, then they’ll know how much I love you.”

“Oh, _honestly,_ you’re so dramatic. I only meant, can you stop for about two seconds so I can put the blinds down?”

“Oh. I guess that works too.”

Snickering, Padmé hopped off the desk and moved to flip a switch beside the window, causing the blinds to rotate until they were fully closed. “Now it’s too dark in here,” Anakin complained.

“It’s called mood lighting,” Padmé informed him.

With a wave of his hand, he used the Force to flick a lightswitch on. “Well, I want to be able to see every inch of you,” he said, making her, the Galactic Empress, not only blush, but also giggle.

Anakin made short work of the rest of her clothes, and for a moment he could only gaze at her in awe. Padmé glanced down at herself almost self-consciously. “I know I look…different, but I’ve had two children since the last time we—”

“I was going to say you’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” Anakin said frankly, and she blushed again.

He made her hop back up on the desk and lie down on top of it so that he could kiss his way down her entire body, so slowly, savoring every minute of it. “Anakin, please,” Padmé whined as he teased her with kisses up and down the inside of her thighs.

“This is our first time doing this knowing that we love each other,” he pointed out between kisses. “I want it to be—” he kissed her again, higher up this time “—slow, and—” again, now with a little bit of teeth “—romantic and—”

“We can be as slow and romantic as you want tonight when we have infinite time and an entire bed,” Padmé said, tugging impatiently on his hair. “But I _need_ you, right now.”

Anakin heaved a sigh. “Oh, fine,” he said, and then he was right where she wanted him.

“Yes,” Padmé gasped, tightening her thighs on either side of his head. _“Yes,_ Anakin…”

Anakin licked the wetness gushing out of her entrance and briefly pushed his tongue inside, giving a satisfied hum against her and making her moan loudly. “Forgot how good you taste,” he mumbled, and then he moved on to give some attention to her clit. He flicked it with his tongue and lightly bit it with his teeth, working her expertly until she was writhing against his face and begging for release. How far he’d come from the awkward, inexperienced lover he’d been their first time together, Anakin thought a little smugly.

He was painfully hard, but he ignored it in favor of focusing solely on his wife’s pleasure. Anakin slid two fingers of his flesh hand inside her while his mouth continued working her clit, and after a minute or two Padmé was crying out and coming hard, her walls shuddering around his fingers while her sweet juices flooded his mouth.

Anakin took her through it before sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, grinning up at her. Flushed and breathless, Padmé propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Anakin slid his fingers into his mouth and slowly sucked them clean, then slid them out just as slowly and made a show of licking his lips.

“Force have mercy on me,” Padmé said, her pupils blown wide with desire. “When did you get so seductive? Have you been practicing on someone else?”

“Never,” Anakin promised her, and he stood back up and moved to kiss her.

Padmé seemed thoroughly worn out from her orgasm, and they kissed lazily for several minutes—but it turned out she was just lulling him into a false sense of security, because without warning she swiftly maneuvered them so that Anakin was flat on his back on the desk and she was kneeling over him.

She gave him a predatory smirk, and Anakin just about came in his pants. “Padmé,” he moaned as she started teasingly playing with the waistband of his pants. _“Please.”_

“Oh, do you want these off?” she said innocently. “I was just about to get dressed again, I have a lot of work to do today…”

Anakin groaned. “I hate you.”

Padmé laughed and made him sit up so she could take his tunic and shirt off, then pushed him back down and tugged his pants and underwear down, finally freeing his erection. “Seriously, though,” she said, “we don’t have a lot of time before my next meeting, I’m only free right now because I’d set a chunk of time aside to work on our divorce proceedings.”

Anakin gave a laugh that quickly turned into a hiss as she took him in her hand. “Then you better— _Padmé—_ better hurry up.”

Padmé took him at his word, and seconds later she was sinking down on him and making them both gasp. Anakin’s hands came up to grip her hips as he struggled not to come immediately. “So good,” he moaned. “Force, you’re tight…”

“Well, it’s been a while,” Padmé said, rolling her hips once and making Anakin inhale sharply.

“You really never slept with anyone else in all this time?”

She shook her head and smiled at him, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Never.”

Padmé started riding him harder. Anakin was content to let her do all the work for a couple minutes, but then he moved into a sitting position on the desk for better leverage and started thrusting his hips up into her, making her groan and lean forward to rest her forehead against his.

Anakin tilted his head up to kiss her, and he wrapped one arm around her while the other dropped between her legs to play with her clit and push her closer to climax. “Anakin,” Padmé said breathlessly. “Oh, Anakin.”

“Come for me,” Anakin murmured against her lips. “Come for me, my love.”

Seconds later she did, and he followed right behind her.

Anakin put one hand on the desk so he could lean back on it and left the other around Padmé as she collapsed against his chest. He traced circles on her skin for a moment before moving his hand up to play with her hair, and after she’d caught her breath Padmé leaned up and kissed him deeply. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.” Anakin smiled down at her. “So no divorce?”

She laughed. “No divorce,” she agreed. “Although…what about a second wedding ceremony?”

“A second wedding? Why?”

“Well, you were miserable and hated me the first time, and all I cared about was how I could use you to my advantage,” Padmé said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a second ceremony, now that we both know we love each other? Just so that we can have one wedding that’s a real celebration of our love.”

“I…I would love that,” Anakin said, smiling even wider. “But can it be a private thing that we don’t have to invite a million people to?”

“I was going to say the same thing,” Padmé said with a chuckle. “You know, I was hoping to go to Naboo soon, it’s been ages since I was there and Luke and Leia have never been, so maybe we could have a private ceremony there with my family, a few friends…”

Anakin leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips. “That sounds absolutely perfect.” After another minute of quiet cuddling, he said in wonder, “I still can’t quite believe you love me.”

“I can’t believe _you_ love _me,”_ she countered. “I never thought—never even dared to let myself imagine it—”

“Neither did I. When I first found out you were pregnant, I had a dream. A Force vision, showing the four of us together. And you and I were so happy and in love, and I thought the Force was just mocking me,” Anakin confessed. “I didn’t think that sort of relationship would ever be possible for us. But even then I think I wanted it, although I wouldn’t admit it to myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Padmé said. “For everything I put you through. I was so horrible to you in the beginning—”

“I wasn’t exactly easy to put up with either,” Anakin said with a grin. “Padmé, all of that is way in the past. We’ve come so far since then. No more dwelling on past mistakes or apologizing for the way things were when we first got married. Today, we start fresh.”

The smile she gave him then was so soft, so tender and genuine, Anakin felt like at long last he’d broken past every single wall protecting Empress Amidala and reached the very core of the real Padmé Naberrie that had been hidden for so long. “I’d like that,” she said, and she leaned up and kissed him again.

Once they’d gotten dressed and made themselves presentable (which took rather a while), they left Padmé’s office hand-in-hand. “My Lady, is everything sorted?”

They both jumped and turned to see the Chagrian lawyer standing there, looking expectantly at them. “Oh,” said Padmé, who like Anakin had clearly forgotten he’d been waiting outside. Anakin tried not to blush at the thought that surely he must have heard what they were doing, unless Padmé’s office was completely soundproof. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time, but we’ve decided not to go through with the divorce after all.”

The Chagrian looked highly offended. “But, My Lady—”

“I’ll leave you to deal with this,” Anakin muttered, kissing her on the cheek. “See you for dinner?”

“Yes,” Padmé said, beaming at him as he reluctantly dropped her hand and headed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue up next!


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the birthday cake may seem anachronistic but Wookieepedia says they DO have birthday cakes in the galaxy far far away, so my shameless fluff is justified

“Done!” Padmé set the spoon aside, looking pleased.

Anakin put away the last of the ingredients and came over to hug her from behind, kissing her on the cheek. “It looks good,” he told her as he observed the cake batter. “But let me do a taste test before we put it in the oven, because to be honest, I don’t trust you not to have put in salt instead of sugar.”

Padmé stuck her tongue out at him, and Anakin dipped a finger in the bowl and licked it. He immediately started coughing; it tasted terrible. “I was only joking before, but you _actually did_ put in salt instead of sugar.”

“What? I swear I didn’t, come on, look.” She opened a cabinet and pulled out a container. “This is what I used.”

“Yes, that’s the salt,” Anakin said, grinning.

As if determined to prove him wrong despite the fact that she had never set foot in this kitchen before, Padmé poured some out on her hand, grabbed a pinch, and put it in her mouth. She made a face. “Ugh, fine, that’s the salt. But it’s not my fault, it isn’t labeled. How was I supposed to know?”

“Well, the salt is in here with all the spices and the sugar is over there—” He pointed a few cabinets over “—with the flour. The handmaidens have a whole organizational system, this kitchen’s set up the same as the one at home. But I guess you’ve never been in that one either.”

Padmé huffed indignantly. “Are we going to have to start the whole thing over?”

“Yes, but it’s all right, because we’re having fun.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Given that she’d been living in palaces with other people cooking for her since she was fourteen, Padmé had no idea how to cook. Anakin wasn’t exactly a master chef himself but he knew his way around a kitchen, so he’d decided to enlist Padmé’s help in making the twins’ birthday cake and thereby start teaching her to cook. He’d figured it wouldn’t be too difficult seeing as Padmé easily mastered every skill she set out to learn, but apparently cooking wasn’t going to be one of them.

(Honestly, it was kind of a relief to _finally_ find something that she couldn’t do.)

The second bowl of cake batter turned out well, so they put it in the oven and started making the icing. After some deliberation they’d decided to decorate the cake to look like Artoo, since he was just about the twins’ favorite person—well, droid—in the entire galaxy. Anakin was pretty sure Luke and Leia liked Artoo better than they liked him or Padmé. In fact, while Leia’s first word had been “mama,” Luke’s had been “Artoo.” Not that Anakin was bitter or anything.

As abysmal a cook as she was, Padmé turned out to be quite good at cake decorating (and Anakin cheated a little with the Force) and by the time they were finally done, they had a beautiful birthday cake.

“It’s almost a shame we worked so hard on this when the twins won’t even remember it,” Anakin remarked. “Are you sure it’s all right for them to even eat it? It’s a lot of sugar.”

“We’ll only give them tiny little pieces. I even checked with Sola the other day and she said it won’t do them any harm,” Padmé soothed him. “It’s a special occasion, they deserve a little extra sugar on their first birthday.”

“I suppose.” Anakin gestured at her nose, which had a dot of bright blue icing on it. “You’ve got some icing on your face.”

Padmé reached up to touch her cheek. “Where?”

“I’ll get it.” He leaned in and licked the icing right off her nose, making her giggle. “Mmm. Delicious.” Anakin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I can think of some things that taste even better, though.”

“Oh, _so_ mature,” Padmé said, but she was still laughing. She tugged him closer and kissed him hard. Anakin made a surprised noise but then eagerly kissed her back, and with a wave of his hand all the cooking utensils were unceremoniously flying off the counter so that Padmé had room to hop up on it.

She started fumbling with his belt, and Anakin was halfway done undoing the laces in the back of her dress when the door opened. “My Lady, how is— _oh,_ pardon me.”

They sprang apart and turned around to look guiltily towards the doorway like a pair of children caught eating the icing right out of the bowl. Sabé was standing there, shaking her head and looking fondly exasperated. “I was only going to ask how the cake was coming along, but apparently everything’s going well,” she said.

“Yes, very well,” Padmé said with as much dignity as she could muster while Anakin sheepishly used the Force to pick up everything they’d knocked askew.

Sabé left, snickering a little. “The twins should still be napping for another hour,” Anakin said once he’d recovered from his embarrassment. “What do you say we continue this in the bedroom?”

Padmé grinned. “Race you there.”

Afterwards, they took advantage of the last few precious minutes before Luke and Leia were due to wake up by lying in bed and having a moment to breathe. Moments like these were pretty few and far between nowadays; as if parenting one-year-old twins wasn’t a full-time job on its own, Padmé also had all her Empress responsibilities while Anakin was often busy with Ahsoka training their first few students. But they’d taken a full two weeks off to go to Naboo for celebrations of both the twins’ birthday and Anakin and Padmé’s second wedding ceremony, which had taken place the week before.

As far as Anakin was concerned, it had been just about the happiest two weeks of his life. He’d gotten to marry his wife again and spend a relaxing two weeks at a beautiful (and very private) lake house with her, and now they were celebrating their children’s first birthday. Only a few short years ago, he wouldn’t have thought he’d ever get to experience any of this.

“I had fun today,” Padmé said after a quiet minute.

Anakin smirked at her. “So did I.”

“I _meant—_ not that this wasn’t fun, of course, but I meant making the cake,” she said, rolling her eyes at him and laughing. “I like doing things like that together. Normal things.”

“Me too,” Anakin said. “Obviously I’m proud of everything you do and I wouldn’t change it for the galaxy, but sometimes it’s nice to feel like a normal family instead of the imperial royal family.”

“Yes.” Padmé gave him a small smile. “You know, I think you make me feel normal for the first time since I became queen of Naboo.”

Anakin laughed. “Most people say they love their partners because they make them feel special, but for you it’s because I make you feel normal.”

“Shut up,” Padmé said, giggling. She climbed on top of him and kissed him to shut him up even more thoroughly, but before they could go any further Anakin sensed through the Force that Leia was starting to wake up.

They spent a couple hours playing with the twins, and Padmé’s family arrived in the late afternoon with birthday gifts in tow. They sat down to dinner after opening the gifts (well, really, Anakin and Padmé had opened them while Luke and Leia played with Artoo) and once they’d finished eating, the handmaidens brought out the birthday cake. “Darlings, look at the cake Daddy and I made for you,” Padmé told the twins, pointing at it. Leia was busy sticking her spoon in her mouth, but Luke stared at the cake for a long moment, and then he pointed excitedly at Artoo and babbled incomprehensibly.

“That’s right, Luke, it’s Artoo,” Anakin said, thrilled that their hard work was appreciated. Artoo chirped at him, and he laughed. “I know it’s weird to watch us all eat you. I promise we’ll do a Threepio cake next year.”

If Threepio could’ve swelled with importance, he would have. “It would be my honor, Master Ani.”

Padmé started cutting the cake, and Anakin passed out pieces to everyone. Luke happily grabbed a fistful and stuffed it in his mouth, getting quite a bit of it all over his face, whereas Leia seemed like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. But with Anakin and Padmé’s encouragement she tentatively put a little bit in her mouth, and Anakin could swear he saw her whole face light up. She immediately began wolfing it down, and everyone laughed.

“Looks like someone has a sweet tooth,” Padmé said, smiling.

Anakin kissed her on the cheek. “Wonder who she got that from.”

The twins had a burst of energy thanks to all the sugar, but when they crashed an hour later, they crashed hard. Luke passed out in Anakin’s lap while a cranky Leia started gearing up for a tantrum, so Padmé hastily got her ready for bed while Anakin changed Luke into his sleepwear and put him in his crib, amazed that he stayed sound asleep for the whole process. A year sharing a bedroom with his much fussier sister had turned him into a very heavy sleeper.

Leia looked like she was trying her hardest to stay angry but was just too tired, and within minutes she’d fallen asleep too. “She really reminds me of you,” Padmé said with a chuckle after they’d tiptoed out of the nursery. “So stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk,” Anakin said. “I seem to remember you proposing marriage to me and refusing to take no for an answer.”

Padmé rolled her eyes, and he snickered. Once again, he found himself marveling at how much things had changed since that day Padmé had captured him on Tatooine. He would never have imagined that he’d be teasing her about it in the years to come, making light of an incident which had once seemed like the end of the world to him.

Ryoo and Pooja were both yawning too when Anakin and Padmé rejoined the family in the sitting room, so the Naberries made their goodbyes and headed home not long afterwards. After sending them on their way, Anakin went back to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace and Padmé curled up next to him, alone at last.

“I can’t believe they’re a year old already,” she said wistfully.

“I know.” Anakin slid his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “A year ago today I almost lost all three of you,” he said quietly. He’d been doing his best to treat the day like the joyous occasion it was, but it was hard not to think about the traumatic circumstances of the twins’ birth.

“A year ago today you _saved_ all three of us,” Padmé corrected him firmly. “Don’t dwell on the negatives.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…the bits I remember most are how terrified I was that you were all going to die,” Anakin said. “The moment of their birth should be a happy memory for us, and it’s not.”

“Easy for you to say. I don’t think labor and delivery would’ve been a great memory for me even if everything did go as planned,” Padmé joked, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “And the moment of their birth doesn’t matter in the long run, because every single moment of their lives after that moment _is_ a happy memory.”

“I guess.”

Padmé reached up to play with his hair, as if sensing he wasn’t fully soothed. “Next time everything will go perfectly,” she promised.

Anakin stared at her. “Wait a minute. You aren’t—?”

“What? Oh, no, no, Force no,” Padmé said quickly, laughing. “I just meant, when the day of our third child’s birth does come, _several_ years from now, it’ll be a happy day and nothing will go wrong.”

“Oh.” Anakin smiled. “So you do want more children, then?”

“I’d be happy to have one or two more, yes. Would you?”

“Honestly, I’d want, like, ten of them.”

She laughed again. “I think four is my maximum.”

 _“Maybe_ five?”

“Definitely not.”

“What if we go to have a fourth child and it turns out to be twins again so then we’ll end up with five?”

“Then I’ll think you somehow manipulated the Force to make that happen.”

They both laughed, and then they fell into a comfortable silence for a while. “You know, before I met you…sometimes I didn’t think it would be possible for me to be truly happy again,” Padmé said softly. “After what happened to my parents, to Naboo…and then living all alone in that palace every day with only Palpatine for company. I didn’t think I’d get to have this sort of happiness. And now I do, all because of you.”

“I could say the same thing,” Anakin said. “After the Jedi purge, when I was just hiding out on Tatooine, I always wondered what the point of it all was, why I bothered to continue living when almost everyone I cared about was dead. And then I met you, and I was even more miserable for a while.” They both chuckled. “And now I’m the happiest man in the entire galaxy.”

Padmé leaned up and tugged his head down so she could kiss him. “I love you,” she said. “So much.”

“I love you so much too.” Anakin kissed her again. Then he pulled her closer against him, and they sat there quietly for a while, savoring the rare moment of peace and utter privacy. For the time being, they weren’t Empress and Emperor Consort Amidala. They were just Anakin and Padmé.

Anakin leaned down to nuzzle her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “What do you say we stay here forever and never go back to Coruscant?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Mmm, that’s very tempting,” Padmé said, snuggling into his chest. “But Luke and Leia would never forgive us if they knew we gave up the throne before they got a chance to sit on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's finally over! Thanks so much for reading and especially to everyone who's been leaving reviews!! I had so much fun with this AU and I hope you did too :D Who knows if inspiration may strike later for a oneshot or something, but for now I have no plans to return to this AU because the story feels complete to me. But never fear, I have some other things in the works! I've got a couple oneshots that are just about done, so those should be up fairly soon, and also a new longer modern AU work brewing (but who knows if I will actually finish it anytime soon). Thank you all so much for reading this story!!!


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